Deus Occidere
by Aurora Nova
Summary: It has been nearly a hundred years since the Last Dragonborn defeated Alduin, the World-Eater, and saved Skyrim. Now a new threat arises, and only someone with an unusual background can prevent a great evil from destroying an entire realm. (A/N: I had to up the rating to "M", because of certain language and situations that may crop up.)
1. Prologue

Deus Occidere

Prologue

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

The bright light beckoned to her, drawing her closer. There was no pain; only a sense of great peace. So this was what it felt like to die. She felt sorry for those she left behind, not to know this. Looking back, down a long, dark tunnel, she could see a room at the end, brightly lit, with people gathered around a hospital bed. The husk that had been her outer shell lay there. Dimly, she heard sounds of people sobbing and she wanted to tell them not to feel sad. She hadn't died; she had transformed. Once her being slipped its mortal bonds, the Spirit within was more beautiful and profound than could be described by mundane words.

The light ahead of her drew closer—or she drew closer to it, she wasn't sure which. Something waited for her within the light. Some_one_. Memory returned. She had done this before, many times.

_**Welcome back, my dear,**_ a Voice said—or perhaps thought. _**How do you think you did this time?**_

_ Not as good as I should have done, _she replied honestly. There was only truth here. _I wasn't as kind as I should have been, or as generous, or compassionate. And I didn't love as strongly as I should have._

_**You are still a young Soul,**_ the parental Voice assured her. _**You still did better this time than last.**_

_ Don't remind me,_ she squirmed with embarrassment. _I still can't forgive myself for not speaking up when I should have._

_**Do not be too harsh with yourself,**_her Creator said. _**These are lessons you are still learning.**_

_ Will I be going out again soon?_ she asked.

_**Not immediately,**_her Superior said._**Rest for a while. I will call for you when I need you again.**_

The light bloomed all around her, enveloping and infusing her. Consciousness faded, and she rested.

The period of unconsciousness could not be measured here. Time had no meaning. There was a period of not-being, then she suddenly became aware. She knew her Creator wished to commune with her once more.

_I'm ready,_ she said.

_**Your eagerness does you credit,**_the Voice approved. _**But first, you will need some information to help you with this task.**_

She waited patiently for her Superior to speak again. Things like this could not be rushed. Too much was at stake, each time she became alive again. The worst part was always Birth. The process removed any memories of her prior lives. She always felt as though she had to start over from scratch. And then there was the long period that followed Birth, when she couldn't do what she'd been sent to do. She was dependent on others to sustain and protect her; other Souls who were going about the tasks that had been assigned to them.

_**You are aware of a certain form of entertainment from your last life?**_the Voice broke into her thoughts. _**I believe it is referred to as a 'video game'?**_

_ Yes,_ she affirmed. _I played several versions of video games in that life, as a young mother with the children I had—_here she felt that twinge of loss, which she quickly set aside. She would more than likely meet those Souls again, in another life.

_**Are you aware that everything that is created, exists? **_the Voice inquired.

She was confused. That seemed like double-talk, and completely out-of-character for her Superior.

_Please explain,_ she requested.

_**You know of the theory of the multi-verse? That multiple universes exist side-by-side with each other, varying from barely any difference, to having nothing in common?**_

Though she had no corporeal form, she felt as though she were nodding. _Yes,_ she replied.

_**Then understand this: everything that has been created, whether imagined or written, exists on a different plane of consciousness.**_The Voice warmed to the lecture. _**Therefore, the worlds created by authors exist and are real in another universe. The same can be said for the realms created for certain television programs and video games, as well.**_

_ALL of them?_ she asked in wonder.

_**Most are fragments of universes,**_ her Superior qualified. _**Tiny loops of reality which do not support a viable existence. Those which have been—shall we say, 'fleshed out'—certainly can.**_

_ And that's where I'm going next? _she asked, beginning to get excited. Where would she be going?

_**I have need for an Agent in the realm of Nirn, the world of Tamriel.**_

_ Skyrim?_ she cried, thrilled beyond measure. _You're sending me to Skyrim?_

_**Be calm,**_ her Superior said, and she stilled the excitement within her. _**You always get over-excited. Please try to work on that, will you?**_

_ I'm sorry,_ she said, contritely, but the bubble of joy within her wouldn't stay repressed for long.

_**This time it will be different,**_ the Voice warned her. _**There is not enough time to send you through the Birthing process. This operation must be enacted immediately.**_

_ I thought the Birthing process was the only way to enter the next Life?_ she inquired.

_**Ordinarily, yes,**_ the Voice admitted. _**But while Time has no meaning here, it does in Skyrim. Already our Enemy has sent agents to threaten that world's existence. You will face grave dangers, but you will not be without assistance.**_

_ Do we have any of our own people there?_ she wanted to know.

_**No, you will have to rely on help from the people of Skyrim themselves.**_

She thought that through. Without another Agent, she would pretty much be on her own. Still, her Superior would not have trusted her with a mission this important if it was felt she wasn't ready to handle it.

_What am I taking with me?_ she asked. In other lives she had been able to choose skills and talents that would become an integral part of the person she had been. Because of the stress of the Birthing process, and its long recovery period, knowledge of any past lives was lost, and she would not know what skills she had chosen until she rediscovered them during that life. This time, apparently, it would be different.

_**You will take with you your knowledge of the game, though time has progressed since the game's scripted end. How much help this will be to you is for you to discover. You will also take with you the inherent ability for magic, though perhaps not exactly the way it worked in the game. You will have to experiment and see what works for you.**_

She absorbed this and gave another mental nod. _I'm ready, _she said. _When do I leave?_

The Voice held a note of irony in it. _**Now.**_

__Her awareness was sent down a long dark tunnel with a light at the end.

_'Once more into the breach, dear friends,' _she quoted to herself in amusement.


	2. Chapter 1

Deus Occidere

Chapter 1

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

She opened her eyes slowly and looked around her. Grey clouds scuttled across the open sky above her. In her peripheral vision she saw standing stones surrounding her, carved with some unknowable ancient figures and runes. She was lying on a stone plinth within the circle of standing stones. Candles eerily sputtered in the gusty winds, remaining lit despite the spitting rain.

She was cold, and she shivered. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the stone table, knocking something off. It was a wicked-looking curved dagger, made of some kind of brass or bronze material. It lay on the ground where it had fallen, next to the dead body of a woman in a long black robe.

She looked around again. Bleak, scrub-covered hills rolled away in all directions. There wasn't another soul to be seen for miles.

At this point she realized two things: first, she was completely lost and had no idea where she was in Skyrim; and second, she was completely naked.

The dead woman appeared to have been performing some sort of ritual, but whether she died because of it or due to some other means, it was impossible to determine. All that was important right now was that she had clothing. Quickly, the newly-risen girl stripped the dead one of her clothing and dressed herself. It was a snug fit—the dead woman was a bit shorter, and was flatter in the chest—and the boots were a bit tight, but it was better than nothing.

"I need to find out where I am," she said aloud, testing her new voice. Not bad; rather husky and pleasant to the ear. "I'll need a name, too. Something I'll remember to answer to."

The gusty wind whipped her hair into her face, and she realized at that point just how long and red it was. "Woo-hoo!" she exclaimed happily. "I finally get to have red hair!" Searching the satchel that had belonged to the dead woman, she found a strip of leather and tied back her hair. There were other things in the pouch as well—a couple of potions in red bottles, a chunk of bread and a wedge of cheese, a couple of long, thin metal stylus-like things that she realized must be lockpicks, and some dried herbs.

Curious, she put her hand into the satchel and gasped with astonishment and delight as it descended deeper into the bag than its outward appearance would have suggested.

"You are my new best friend," she grinned. She picked up the dagger and tucked it into the belt. She had no idea how to wield it, but better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Before leaving the stone circle she searched the area carefully. Her knowledge of the game told her that sometimes chests could be found in the vicinity. She wasn't that lucky, however. There was nothing here.

"Okay," she said aloud. "So, no money, no armor and no real weapons. I am so screwed." She looked upwards. "You're going to make this challenging right from the get-go, aren't you?" she asked wryly to no one in particular. She didn't think her Boss would be listening in. There were too many other things that demanded the attention of that august being. The low rumble of thunder that followed, she felt, was purely coincidental.

With no way of telling which direction was which, she picked one and just started walking. In just under an hour she came to a road, and thankfully met no other wild creatures in the meantime.

"Okay, which direction now?" she wondered aloud. They both looked the same. Unless one counted the small caravan of two wagons just topping the hill to her left and moving slowly her way. She decided to wait and see if anyone could tell her where she was.

The teamster driving the lead wagon pulled up when she flagged him down. The five men on foot and on horseback surrounding the wagons appeared to be hired mercenaries.

"What is it you want?" the man on the first wagon demanded. "How did you come to be way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"If you could tell me please, where I am?" she begged, throwing everything she had into a pleading look. "I've been walking such a long time, and I don't even know what day it is."

"Are you mad?" the teamster scowled. "You're in the Reach. And if you know what's good for you, you'll get yourself back home."

"I—I don't have a home," the girl said. She'd play the helpless female if it meant getting help and answers.

"Hmph!" the man snorted. "Go to Oblivion, then," he said callously. "I've got supplies to deliver to Whiterun, and you're making me late."

"Have a heart Sabjorn," the other driver called. "Can't ye see the poor lassie's down on her luck?" His voice had a lilt in it that, in another lifetime, she might have called 'Irish'.

"Not my problem, Giaccomo," Sabjorn said, shaking the reins and starting his team forward. "If I helped out every person who asked for it, I'd be a poor man indeed. You help her, if you feel that strongly about it, but keep her out of my way." He didn't look back.

During this exchange, she watched the interactions of the other men. Four of the mercs paid little heed to the conversation, watching the horizons and jesting among themselves. One, however, drew her eye. He was tall, muscular like most sell-swords, with reddish-blonde hair and beard. Though he lacked a tattoo and had both his eyes, he could have been the spitting image of one of the characters from the game. He looked at her piercingly, and she found to her immense irritation that she was blushing!

"What's yer name, lass?" Giaccomo asked now, brushing a lock of pure white hair out of his eyes.

She'd thought about this. "Alorra," she answered promptly. It was close to the name she'd used before, in her last life, and was one she'd used in playing the game. She felt confident she would answer if someone called her by it. In any other life, she would have been given a name by the Souls who would have been her parents, and she would have had several years to get used to it.

"Well, climb aboard then, Alorra," the wizened little man said kindly. "Pay no mind t' Sabjorn. He's a mercenary, like the others here. He won't do anything unless he gets paid t' do it."

"You're not one of them?" Alorra asked.

"Me? Divines, no!" Giaccomo exclaimed. "I'm just a merchant, along for the ride. Everything I have t' sell is in this wagon."

"And you're going to Whiterun?" Alorra asked.

"Whiterun?" he seemed surprised. "Oh, my, no, lass! No one goes t' Whiterun right now, not with the plague an' all."

"Plague?" she exclaimed. "There's a plague there?"

Giaccomo turned and gave her a long steady look. "Well, now where have ye been that ye didn't know that?" he asked.

She blushed again, and felt rather than saw the big, sandy-haired Nord staring at her. "I've been—out of touch," she said lamely. "But didn't Sabjorn say he had supplies for Whiterun?"

"Oh, t' be sure, t' be sure," Giaccomo answered. "But he'll be leavin' them at the gate and takin' off. He's already been paid for them, y'see, or he wouldn't go t' the trouble at all."

Alorra sat in silence and thought about this. A plague of some kind in Whiterun? Was this the work of the Enemy? It certainly seemed so. If that was true, then that's where she needed to go. But traveling there by horse-drawn cart from the Reach would take almost a day and a half, depending on where exactly they were. Were they closer to Markarth or Rorikstead?

Giaccomo didn't seem to notice her silence, and instead talked about everything from the weather to the condition of the roads to the prices he hoped to get for his goods when he reached Falkreath. His voice was pleasant, and she felt she could listen to his lilting brogue all day.

At one point, a little unnerved by the stares the big Nord kept giving her, she quietly asked Giaccomo, "Who is that man over there? The big, sandy-haired guy in the steel armor?"

"That would be Argis, Roald's son," Giaccomo replied. She knew that surnames frequently took the form of "so-and-so's son" in certain countries of the world she'd left. It seemed to work that way here, too. "I've seen him before, riding with the caravans. Capable fighter, keeps to himself. Does it bother ye that he keeps looking at ye lass?" Giaccomo grinned. "Shall I challenge him t' a duel over yer honor?"

She laughed. "That won't be necessary, Giaccomo, thank you. I'm sure I've been stared at before and it hasn't hurt me yet."

"Well, yer a fine-looking lass, if I have t' say it," the merchant responded. "Ye've probably had all the boys back home following ye about."

"I wouldn't know about that," she smiled. "Let's just save his life today when you don't fight him."

Giaccomo laughed loud and long at this. "Ye've a wicked sense o' humor about ye, lass!" he chortled. "It's somethin' a man can appreciate."

_So, his name is Argis also,_ she mused. _How ironic. I'd bet anything he's related to the Bulwark._

They pushed on through the gathering darkness until they came upon a small village tucked into the rolling hills.

"Ah, Rorikstead," Giaccomo sighed. "It'll be good t' warm these old bones by the fire!"

"Are we stopping here for the night?" Alorra asked.

"Aye," Giaccomo confirmed. "The roads are too dangerous after dark, as ye might well know, having walked all the way from—where did ye say it was again?" The keen look in his eyes didn't fool her. He was probing for information.

"I don't remember the name of the village," she countered. "It was so small, I don't think it had a name."

"Why did ye leave, then?" her companion asked.

"I was kidnapped," Alorra said, having carefully thought her story out. "A necromancer was going to sacrifice me on one of those stone altars." That much, apparently, had been true. The dead woman certainly seemed to have been a necromancer.

Giaccomo drew in a hiss of horror. "Ye poor wee lass!" he sympathized. "And yet you escaped. How did ye manage that?"

Alorra shrugged. "I don't really know. Something went wrong with her spell, and she dropped dead." She had a feeling her Superior had a hand in that, but she didn't say this aloud. In point of fact she had a feeling her Superior had had a hand in several things so far, including this caravan just showing up at the right time. "I took her clothes and things and just started walking, but I don't think I'll be going back home. There's nothing for me there."

They had pulled up in front of the Frostfruit Inn, and Giaccomo jumped down from the wagon. Alorra stood to follow him, and was about to climb down on her own when she felt someone grab her around the waist and lift her down safely to the ground. The sandy-haired Nord grinned at her, standing way too close for her personal comfort. He smelled like leather and steel.

"Quite an escape story, Bright Eyes," he commented with a wink. "If it's true." His voice was deep, low and husky—just like the Argis from the game—and she would gladly have listened to him reading a phone book if he'd just keep talking.

Breathless, Alorra took a step back to look up into his face. My, he was tall! She found herself backed up against the wagon and stammered, "Why wouldn't it be true?"

Again he quirked a grin. "You tell me." His hands were still on her waist. She looked down at them pointedly and he released her.

"I always tell the truth," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. _Well, except for the no-name village and being kidnapped,_ she qualified to herself. "Then I never have to remember what I've told people."

A cynical look crossed the man's face. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bright Eyes," was all he said. Then he turned and headed into the inn.

Alorra fumed. Who the heck did he think he was, anyway? He might look like one of her favorite characters in the game, but he certainly didn't act like him.

_Oh, that's ridiculous! _she told herself. _That was a __**game**__. And this isn't the same person. Just how did you expect him to act?_

She followed the others into the inn. She had no money, but she hoped the innkeeper would allow her to stay by the fire tonight. If not, perhaps she could sleep in the barn. When she inquired, however, Giaccomo spoke up.

"Nonsense, lass! Ye'll be sleepin' in a proper room, away from these ruffians. I couldn't have it on me conscience if anything happened t' ye while yer travelin' with me!"

Alorra felt pretty sure she'd be able to handle a few over-amorous and highly intoxicated drunkards, but she allowed Giaccomo to pay for a room for her and prepared to follow the innkeeper, who introduced himself as Hjalmar.

"Before I say g'nite t' ye, lass?" Giaccomo coughed delicately.

"What is it, Giaccomo?" she asked.

"Well, it's just that those robes yer wearing might put some folks off. They'll be thinkin' yer not the kind o' person they want hangin' about, if ye get me drift."

"They're all I have," Alorra replied.

"I know, I know," Giaccomo soothed, "but I might be able t' help ye out. Y'see, I've got a rather nice-lookin' dress in me wares right here." He opened the backpack he'd brought inside and pulled out a green dress, which he unrolled and shook out. It had long sleeves and a tan corset over the rough spun fabric, and Alorra couldn't resist touching it. It would more than likely keep her warmer than the thin robe she was currently wearing.

"It's very pretty," Alorra said. "But I have no money to pay you for it, and you're already paying for my room tonight."

"Well, y'see this is where we can help each other out," Giaccomo said, with a gleam in his eye. "If ye give me the robes yer wearin' and the dagger at yer belt, I'd say that more than pays fer the dress and the room. I'd even give ye a bit o' coin on the side, just to make things fair an' all."

He wasn't fooling her. She'd already sensed there was magic in the robes and the dagger, but since she needed the money more than she needed the other things, she agreed to the trade. She took the dress and the pouch of coins and handed over the dagger.

"I'll give you the robe tomorrow," she smiled. "I'm still using it at the moment."

"Tomorrow's fine," Giaccomo grinned. "I'll bid ye good night, then, Alorra."

She wished him pleasant dreams in return and followed the innkeeper to her room.

"Here's the key," Hjalmar said, handing her a large piece of iron. "I strongly suggest you lock yourself in." He looked her up and down. "Good thing old Giaccomo spoke up, or I'd have offered you Muiri's room. She wouldn't have minded."

"Who is Muiri?" Alorra asked.

"My daughter," the man replied shortly. "Left home last month to get married in Riften. Haven't heard from her since."

"Perhaps she's too busy being a newlywed?" the girl suggested.

"They were to have come back here," he told her. "No one just vanishes like that. Not both of them together. And especially not Hamund; he's a good lad, a steady man. Something happened, I'm sure of it."

"If I find anything out in my travels, I'll come back and let you know," Alorra promised.

"I'd be much obliged," Hjalmar said. "Be sure you lock that door," he reminded her as he left. She did as he ordered, then slipped out of the black robe and put on the green dress she'd just got. It fit much better, and she carefully folded the black robe and put it on top of a chest to give to Giaccomo in the morning. She sat down on the small bed and watched the flame dance on the candle sitting on the night stand. She let her mind relax and thought over the day's events.

That there was some sort of plague in Whiterun was her first concern. If Giaccomo didn't travel there, she would have to go as far as she could in the little man's company, then somehow manage to convince Sabjorn to let her travel with him the rest of the way, or walk there on her own. The sooner she could get to Whiterun, the better.

Hjalmar's missing daughter and son-in-law was some sort of side quest, but he seemed to be a good man, and she wanted to at least set his mind at rest, if she could. She'd have to see what she could find out about Muiri and Hamund, but there was a lot of Skyrim between Rorikstead and Riften to get lost in. Still, the Enemy worked in subtle ways, and this could be one thing she couldn't afford to overlook. She made up her mind to go to Riften after Whiterun.

Giaccomo's coin helped. Not having a lot of money was definitely a problem, but with some luck she might still land on her feet. In the game, everyone started out the same—a bound prisoner with only the clothes on their back—and it was up to their own wits and resourcefulness to succeed. She could do no less.

It was time to test one thing more before she retired to bed: magic. Not wanting to set things on fire, she opted instead to try other schools rather than Destruction, to start with. She concentrated, formed an image in her mind and focused her will and energy. When she gestured with her left hand, a small burst of light came forth, illuminating the small room. It hovered just above her head, a warm, comforting glow.

_Well and good,_ she thought. _Let's try something else._

She concentrated again, setting the image in her mind. Focusing once more, she released the energy with a gesture. A ghostly form of a wolf appeared and prowled around the room, sniffing the sparse furniture and waiting patiently for her to send it against an enemy. There were no enemies here, however, so she had to wait for him to disperse, unsure how to dismiss him before the spell wore off.

Her _Candlelight_ winked out at about the same time. Alorra attempted to channel electrical energy next, and sparks danced from her fingertips, ready to be streamed at the first opponent she met.

The rattling of the doorknob broke her concentration and the spell fizzled. She heard shuffling footsteps from the other side and knew someone was trying her door. She was glad now that she had taken Hjalmar's advice about locking it. The doorknob twisted again but only just so far, and whoever it was on the other side shook it a little in apparent frustration.

Was it that man, Argis? she wondered. She knew it was her old self hoping she wasn't right, but what did she really know about this man? For all she knew, he was a complete scumbag. He _was_ a mercenary, after all. Maybe—and this thought made her cringe—maybe it was Giaccomo? Perhaps the white-haired old man wanted a little more than a robe and a dagger in return for the room he'd paid for her?

A different noise came next: a slight scratching of metal on metal, and a whisper of creaking. With alarm she realized the lock was being picked from the other side! She readied the _Sparks_ spell again, intending to electrocute whoever stepped through the door.

"You're a bit lost, Olaf," she heard someone say from the other side, and realized with a sense of relief that it was Argis speaking. "Aren't you sleeping in the stable tonight?" There was a heartbeat of silence, then Argis said, "Lockpicks? You're scum, you know that, Olaf? And you're gonna get us thrown out of here."

Olaf. She remembered him; a sleazy-looking man with a scraggly beard and mismatched armor. She was suddenly ashamed of herself for thinking it might have been her benefactor.

"Come on, Argis," Olaf said slyly. "Keep your voice down! Don't think I didn't see you looking at her all afternoon. What's wrong with a bit of fun, eh?"

"It's wrong if she didn't say yes," Argis replied.

"What makes you think she didn't?" Olaf challenged.

"Well, that locked door is a pretty good indicator," the big Nord rumbled. "Leave now, Olaf, while you still can—in one piece, that is." There was a tone in his voice a deaf man could have heard, if he'd had his wits about him.

Olaf apparently didn't. "You want her for yourself, don't you?" he sneered. "All the women fall for you, don't they? Can't stand a little healthy competition? I tell you what, why don't we share this little bit of fluff? She oughta be able to handle us both."

"I'm giving you one last chance, Olaf," Argis rumbled dangerously. "Leave now before you say anything you're gonna regret."

Thick as he appeared to be, Olaf must finally have taken the hint, because he said something extremely rude to Argis before he stamped off. There was silence for a long moment, then from the other side, Argis said quietly, "He's gone now, Bright Eyes. Blow out your candle and try to get some sleep. I'll make sure he doesn't come back."

Reassured she'd have an uninterrupted night, Alorra leaned over to blow out the candle and lay down on the small bed. It wasn't as if she couldn't have taken care of Olaf on her own; she had been prepared for that. She was just sorry Argis would lose sleep this night watching over her door, but grateful to realize her initial assumption about him was wrong. She still needed to explore the limits of her knowledge of magic, but that would have to come later. Right now she needed to rest. They were still a long way from Whiterun, and she would need her wits about her. Especially now that she had inadvertently made an enemy. She intended to keep her eye on Olaf.


	3. Chapter 2

Deus Occidere

Chapter 2

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

The caravan started out bright and early the next morning. Argis seemed to be keeping himself closer to Giaccomo's wagon, putting himself between its passengers and Olaf. For his part, Olaf glared at the big Nord, but made no other moves.

The attack, when it came, was as unexpected as it was deadly. Sabjorn was in the lead wagon again, and he suddenly stiffened and gave a short, choking cry as an arrow sprouted from his back. The horses, sensing the shift of guidance on the reins, plunged forward at top speed. The wagon caromed behind them, missing the curve of the road and overturning. Both horses went down in a tangle of wood and harness, screaming horribly.

Shouts and yells came from the mercs as they found themselves being attacked from all sides. Giaccomo was bravely trying to keep his own team from bolting.

"Get down in the wagon!" he shouted at Alorra, and she obediently clambered over the backrest and ducked down between two large crates. Just in time, as an arrow _thocked_ into the seat where she had been sitting.

Alorra followed the line of flight back with her eyes and spotted the bandit near a cluster of large boulders about fifty yards away. She summoned the energy within her and pointed at the ground in front of her. _Wolf!_ she thought, and released the energy. Her ghostly familiar came into being where she pointed. "Go get him!" she directed him, and the wolf took off toward the bandit. He didn't last long against the flights of arrows leveled at him, but at least it was one less person attacking them, and it kept him busy while Alorra concentrated on building a field of energy around the wagon and horses.

Giaccomo was stunned. "What in the name of—yer a mage, then, darlin'?"

Alorra nodded. "Just stay put for a moment, can you?" she asked. "I'm not sure yet if I can keep this going while we're moving."

"Can I shoot through it?" the merchant asked. Alorra considered for a heartbeat, then nodded again.

"I can allow for that. Go ahead," she told him.

Giaccomo picked up a bow and quiver from under his seat and began picking off the bandit archers who were trying to keep their distance from their prey. Alorra threw everything she had into the shield, and the wavering greenish light intensified. Beyond it, she could see the mercenaries dealing with the bandits who were foolish enough to come too close, but they were being systematically picked off. Two went down, and Alorra saw Olaf get hit in the arm with an arrow before Giaccomo found the bandit responsible and killed him with an arrow of his own. Olaf didn't even acknowledge the rescue. He chugged down a potion on the spot and moved on to his next opponent.

Just when it appeared they would be overwhelmed, the bandits withdrew. Nothing happened for several long moments and finally the three remaining mercenaries relaxed their guard.

"They left?" Giaccomo asked. "That's odd. They had us right where they wanted us."

"Too odd for my taste," Olaf said. "I'm done. I'm heading back to Markarth. Sabjorn's dead, which means we ain't getting paid no more." He threw a suspicious look at Alorra. "Shoulda known you weren't what you appeared to be. Mages!" He spat on the ground and walked away. The two remaining men watched him leave.

"Whaddayou think, Argis?" one of them, a Breton, asked. "Should we leave, too?"

"I'm thinking about it, Willem," the sandy-haired Nord replied.

"You're not serious!" Alorra exclaimed. She let her shield dissipate as soon as the threat of danger had passed. "What about the supplies in Sabjorn's wagon? Whiterun needs those supplies!"

Argis walked over to the overturned wagon and attempted to calm the two horses, who had managed to get to their feet in the traces, torn rigging hanging from them. They tossed their heads, snorted loudly and rolled their eyes.

"In case you haven't noticed, Bright Eyes," Argis drawled, "you're short one teamster. And this harness needs to be repaired before the horses can pull the wagon—assuming you can get it up on its wheels again."

Alorra jumped down from Giaccomo's wagon and came over to where Argis waited. She was tired; the shielding spell had taken a lot from her, but she refused to show it. "What's broken on it?" she asked.

Argis gave a sardonic grin. "You gonna take out your needle and thread and stitch it back together, Bright Eyes?"

"Stop calling me that," she frowned. "My name is Alorra. Just show me what's broken. And then maybe between the four of us we can get the wagon upright."

Argis looked over her head at Willem, who shrugged his shoulders. The Nord rolled his eyes and showed her the straps that had snapped under the strain of the accident. "If you think you can do anything with these, you're welcome to try. Willem, Giaccomo and I will get the wagon back on its wheels. You just sit tight."

Alorra laid the straps out on the ground, broken ends touching. She called once more upon the power within her and channeled it through her hands. _Mend!_ she commanded silently. The leather glowed with a pale, blue-white light as the torn ends fused themselves together. She gave each a hard tug and was satisfied with the results, happy that her magic worked differently from the game. If she'd been limited to that kind of power, she couldn't have done this.

She moved over to the broken shaft that hung between the horses, through which the harness straps ran when everything was in good working order. She wouldn't be able to do anything with it until the wagon was on its wheels again.

The three men pushed and strained with all their might, but the wagon was heavily laden, and impossible to put right again. Even when she insisted she help, they were not strong enough to lift several hundred pounds of dead weight.

"Alright," she said breathlessly. "Let's try something else."

"I'm open to suggestions," Argis drawled.

"We could empty everything out of it," Giaccomo suggested drily.

"We should have done that at the beginning," Willem complained.

"Gentlemen, please!" Alorra said. "Let me concentrate!"

_I need a little help with this one,_ she silently prayed. _I don't think I'm strong enough to do this on my own._

Her hands began to glow, pinkish-peach. Guided by the Voice in her mind, Alorra reached out as though she were picking up a small toy and setting it upright again. The peachy-pink glow enveloped the wagon, lifting it off the ground, straightening it and settling it behind the two horses, who flicked their ears backwards, but otherwise had no other reaction. The wooden shaft melded itself back together and the leather harnesses snaked into place.

The glow faded, and before she slumped to the ground, Alorra mentally offered a _thank you_ to her Superior. Giaccomo caught her as she fell.

"By the Divines!" whispered Willem. "It's sorcery! I'm getting out of here!" He took off at a dead run, back the way they had come. Argis didn't stop him.

"Gods have mercy!" Giaccomo muttered. "Ye didn't tell me ye could do that, lass!"

"I didn't know I could…until I tried," Alorra said weakly, breathing hard.

"You've got some explaining to do, Bright Eyes," Argis rumbled. "But let's get out of here first. Giaccomo, help me get her back on your wagon."

"No," Alorra said. "I want to drive the other one."

"Do you know how?" Argis demanded irritably. He wouldn't have been surprised in the least if she had said yes.

Her face fell. "No," she admitted.

"Then you can ride with me, but I'm driving," he insisted. His own horse had taken off with the others when the fighting started and was probably halfway back to his stable in Markarth by now.

"What about the men?" Alorra asked, concerned. "Sabjorn and the others?"

"I'm afraid they're dead, lass," Giaccomo said.

"We can't just leave them lying there," she urged, feeling her strength slowly returning. "Can't we bury them?"

Argis blew out an impatient breath. "The ground around here is rock hard," he explained. "It's already close to midday. If we take the time to do that we'll be here when those bandits come back."

Alorra knew he was right, but couldn't accept there was nothing that could be done.

"Could we build a cairn?" she suggested. "Just pile stones over them so the wild animals can't defile them?"

"I suppose it's the least we can do," Giaccomo allowed. Argis heaved a sigh and said, "Fine. Let's just get this done."

They found a shallow depression in the ground nearby that made it easier. They carefully laid the bodies of the three men in the hole and began piling stones on top of them. Argis took Sabjorn's belt pouch of coins from him and tossed it into the wagon. "I'll see his widow gets this," he said curtly as he rounded up more stones.

It was over an hour before they were finished, but Alorra was satisfied. It was the best they could do. They climbed back into the wagons and with Argis at the reins of the lead carriage, headed out onto the road again.

They rested the horses at the crossroads where they would be parting company from Giaccomo. He intended to adhere to his original plan of heading south to Falkreath, while Alorra and Argis would continue east to Whiterun.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Argis muttered as he scooped up water in a bucket to give to the horses.

When he returned to the others he said, "Before we go any further, Bright Eyes, I think you owe us that explanation of just exactly who you are."

Giaccomo agreed. "Yes, I'd like to know that, too, lass. Ye're much more than ye've led us to believe."

Alorra shifted uncomfortably. Telling them the truth would make them think she was a madwoman for sure. They'd never believe her. And a carefully fabricated untruth was also unacceptable. They deserved better than that for the help they'd given her.

"I'll tell you what I can," she consented. "You might not believe all of it, though."

"I've seen a lot of strange things in my life," Argis rumbled. "Try me."

"Well, for starters, I'm not from around here, but you've probably already figured that out."

She didn't get an argument from them on that one.

"You've seen me use magic, so I guess you could say I'm a mage, but that's only part of it," she said carefully.

"Are you a daedra?" Giaccomo asked fearfully.

"What? No!" Alorra denied vehemently. "I have no part of that!"

"What, then?" Argis demanded. "Were you sent here by someone? Was it the Empire?"

"Yes," she started to say. "I mean, no! Not the Empire. But I _was_ sent here." She sighed in frustration. "I'm not explaining this very well, I know. Please believe me when I tell you I mean you no harm. I'm a sort of….trouble-shooter. I fix things that aren't going the way they're supposed to. My Superior has learned of a threat to Skyrim, and I've been sent to find out what form that threat will take, and to try to stop it."

The two men looked at her in silence for several heartbeats. Suddenly Argis began to chuckle, then to laugh right out loud.

_"You?"_ he guffawed. "A little bitty thing like _you_ is supposed to stop a big scary threat to Skyrim? Pull the other leg!"

Alorra scowled. She didn't think he'd believe her. "Giaccomo?" she asked, turning to the merchant.

"I'd have said ye've gone completely mad," he said slowly. "But I've seen what ye've done this day, protecting me wagon an' horses from incoming arrows and mending leather harness straps so well ye can't tell they were ever ripped apart. I've seen yer kindness t' the men that died, not wantin' t' leave them t' be molested by the local wildlife—even Sabjorn, who wasn't that nice t' ye. I don't know what ye truly are, me lass, but I'm certainly glad ye fought for our side this day, an' I'd be honored t' call ye me friend."

He extended his hand for her to shake, and she accepted it gratefully. Argis' laughter died as he looked on.

"Alright, Bright Eyes," he said, still grinning. "Keep your secrets, if it makes you feel better. I've heard some whoppers in my day, but that has to be one of the best. I'll keep my end of old Sabjorn's contract and protect this wagon and its contents until we get to Whiterun. But after that, you're on your own. Deal?" He extended his hand as well.

Alorra gave a mental shrug. Okay, so he still didn't believe her, and she was sure Giaccomo didn't either, but at least they accepted that _she_ believed what she'd told them, and that was a start. She took Argis' hand and shook it.

"Deal," she said. "Shall we go, then?" They climbed back into the wagon and Alorra waved good-bye to Giaccomo as Argis gave the horses a flick of the reins to get them moving.

They had been traveling for nearly two hours when Argis pulled up the horses.

"Why are we stopping?" Alorra asked. She was relieved to finally have an excuse to talk to him. She'd asked him a few questions as they left the crossroads, but his answers had been so short and terse as to be almost rude, and she'd given up.

"Look down that ravine," he said, not pointing, but gesturing with a nod of his head.

She looked. The sides of the road rose sharply on both sides as it wound down to the hilly plain below. She saw immediately what he saw. "A perfect place for an ambush," she said quietly.

His look of surprise rewarded her. He hadn't thought she'd be that quick on the uptake. _Score one for me,_ she thought indulgently.

"Have you seen any movement?" she asked now, deliberately not staring ahead.

"Not yet," he said, handing her the reins and climbing down from the wagon. He made a show of adjusting the harness. "But I'd bet septims to sweetrolls they're there."

"What do you want to do about it?" she asked, adjusting the skirts of her dress.

"I'm open to ideas," he said as he climbed back up and took the reins from her. "But make it quick. We don't have much time."

Alorra thought quickly. "When I give the word, whip the horses to go as fast as they can."

"Are you out of your mind?" he muttered. "We'll be dead before we reach the other side!"

"Just do it!" she hissed. "You saw what I did earlier today. This will be Act Two."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Argis growled.

She waited until they had almost reached the beginning of the ravine. She didn't want the horses to have to run too long, but they also needed to pick up speed to get through the crevasse as quickly as possible.

_"NOW!"_ she shouted, channeling her energy into a shield large enough to cover both the wagon and the horses. Argis yelled, _"HEYAHHH!" _as he cracked the whip over the horses' heads. Startled, they plunged into an immediate gallop, the force almost throwing Alorra from her seat. She gripped its edge tightly as she concentrated solely on keeping the shield around them as they raced along.

They plunged into the ravine and bounced over the uneven road. Almost immediately, a hailstorm of arrows rained down upon them from both sides of the sunken road. They bounced harmlessly off Alorra's shield and rattled to the ground. Shouts of dismay echoed up and down the ravine as the bandits realized their carefully plotted ambush was netting them nothing.

"Hold on tight!" Argis warned. Ahead, through the wavering green wall, he saw several of the brigands sliding down into the ravine to try and cut them off from the end. Argis gave the whip another crack and urged the horses to go faster. Foam flecked the corners of their mouths and sweat glistened on their hides. The creak and rattle of the wagon was matched only by the pounding hoofbeats echoing through the canyon.

Three of the bandits were foolish enough to try to step out in front of them, attempting to spook the horses into stopping, but the shield wall obscured enough of the horses' vision that they barreled completely over the men. The wagon leaped into the air behind the beasts as they hit the human speed bump.

Alorra felt herself giddily lifted off her seat. If she hadn't had such a firm grip on the wooden plank and the iron side rail, she would have found herself face down in the road with the wagon leaving her behind. As it was, her concentration wavered and slipped, and the shield wall came down. They were nearly clear of the ravine, however, and Argis yelled, "Keep down!" as he pushed her down off the seat and into the well of the footrest.

_"YEARRRGH!" _she heard him yell, and for a moment she thought he was yelling at the horses again. Looking up, she saw his face contort with pain as blood leaked down from an arrow stuck in his shoulder. She knew there was nothing she could do about it now. It would have to wait until they were safely away from here.

They broke free from the ravine with the horses still going full tilt. Argis clearly wanted to put as much distance between the bandits and them, and only when he heard the labored breathing of the team did he finally rein them in. The ravine was merely a speck on the horizon by this time. The horses trembled and shuddered in their traces, and he kept them at a walk for several minutes before bringing them to a halt near an abandoned shack by the side of the road.

It was late afternoon, and Alorra wondered if he intended to stay here for the night. Looking around, trying to get her bearings, she saw a fortress in the distance.

"Fort Greymoor," Argis told her when she pointed it out. "I didn't think we were that close, but it's a good sign. We've covered a good distance today."

He grimaced again, and Alorra said quickly, "We need to get that arrow out of you."

"Not here," Argis insisted. "Let's keep going. The fort's not that far, and we can see if they have a healer there."

"You can lose a lot of blood between here and there," she pointed out. "Get down and let me take a look at it."

"Are you a healer, too, Bright Eyes, on top of everything else you've spun?" he asked sarcastically, but his face looked pale and drawn, and Alorra knew he was just protesting for the sake of argument.

"I might be," she said. "Dammit, Argis, just let me have a look, okay? I need to make sure that arrow hasn't nicked an artery or something."

He looked as though he wanted to debate it further, but finally nodded and climbed down, after setting the brake. He looped the reins around the rail on the footrest and held up his good hand to help her down.

The abandoned shack had nothing inside except some empty crates, and was dimmer inside than the fading afternoon sun outside. Argis lowered himself gingerly onto a wooden crate and Alorra fired off a _Candlelight_ spell to give herself something to see better by.

The arrow had gone through Argis' shoulder, just below the armhole opening of his steel hauberk. The mail-lined sleeves hadn't been enough to stop the missile from piercing its way through metal, leather and flesh. Blood slowly seeped down the big Nord's arm, but to Alorra this was a good sign. If an artery had been hit, the flow would have been faster.

"I'm going to have to remove it," she warned him. "I'll have to break it off and push it through. It's going to hurt for a little bit."

"Just do it," he gritted. He yelped once when Alorra broke the back half of the arrow off. She gave him a moment to recover, channeling a little bit of her sadly depleted magicka reserves into a small _mending_ spell to seal the broken end of splinters. Grabbing the arrow by the bloody tip with a bit of leather, she pulled it out the rest of the way, as straight as she could.

"YOW!" Argis yelled.

"Sorry," she said. "I _did_ warn you." She used the rest of her magicka as a healing spell to staunch the blood and close the wound.

"Yeah, you did—what?" he began, surprised. "Hey! That felt good!"

Alorra gave a small private grin. Yes, he _had_ to be related to the Bulwark, though he hadn't said anything about that yet.

"It will do until we get to Whiterun," she told him. "Ready to move on?"

"Whiterun?" he asked skeptically. "You're still intent on going there, even knowing they've got the plague?"

"It's because they have the plague that I have to go, Argis," she said. "I have to find out if that's part of what the Enemy is doing."

"Oh, yeah, right," he drawled as he helped her into the wagon and climbed in after her. "I forgot. This mysterious 'enemy' who wants to destroy Skyrim."

"And all of Tamriel in the bargain," she reminded him, irritated once more. Why did he have to be such a…a _prick _sometimes? "Why is that so hard for you to believe? It's happened before, you know."

The sneering smile left the big Nord's face. "I guess I didn't think of that," he admitted. "There was the Oblivion Crisis, if I remember my history correctly. And more recently the Cult of Miraak and Alduin, the World-Eater. The Last Dragonborn took care of those."

"Did you know the Dragonborn?" she asked innocently. She knew the answer, but wanted some idea how long ago it had been. His snort of derisive laughter confirmed her guess.

"I'm not _that_ old, Bright Eyes," he said. "That was almost a hundred years ago. My great-grandfather, Argis the Bulwark, was one of the Dragonborn's Housecarls." There was a hint of pride in the admission.

"So you're named for him?" she asked.

"Family names tend to get repeated a lot in Skyrim," he shrugged. "Especially names that have a lot of honor attached to them. It's a vain hope that the younger will follow in the elder's footsteps."

"Why would it be a vain hope?" Alorra inquired.

"Because sometimes, when you're giving a chance to prove yourself, you find you don't measure up," he said cryptically, then fell silent and refused to say more to her.

Alorra was left with her troubled thoughts. Had this Argis done something dishonorable? Was that why he felt the need to see this mission through? Or perhaps he hadn't been able to do something that had been expected of him. That kind of disappointment could be hard to live with. She knew from one of her past lives how bitter that could be.

_It was 1939, and Europe was perched on the brink of war. She had been Annike then, staying with friends in Poland when the German army invaded. She'd seen the signs, even before the Nazis began rounding up anyone of Jewish descent. She could have protested, could have written letters back home to the States and made people aware of what was going on an ocean away. But she was afraid; afraid that if she said anything, the Nazis would discover that she, an American citizen, had a Jewish mother._

_ Her friends were summarily rounded up and sent to "detainment" camps. She never saw them again. For the rest of her short life, Annike regretted not speaking up. She joined the Resistance movement in France and spent every day fighting the Germans by more subtle means than guns, trying to atone for the failing of her character._

_ When the Nazis raided their headquarters two years later, Annike was captured and sent to a prison camp where she was systematically beaten and raped by the guards before being taken to a courtyard with eight other women from her organization and shot to death by a handful of fanatical Nazis._

_ As she felt her Soul slip from its battered shell, Annike knew she had finally learned the lesson this life had been set up to teach her—Do._

They made it to Whiterun just as the sun slipped over the western horizon. Argis spoke with the men who ran the stables, trying to find out the situation in the city.

"It's bad," the stable master, Lennart, said. "I haven't heard of any recent deaths, but they're still pretty sick inside the walls, and Jarl Torolf has ordered the city sealed until further notice."

"Are there any healers inside?" Alorra asked. "Isn't anything else being done to relieve the suffering? What kind of sickness is it?"

Lennart gave her a confused look. "It's the _plague,_" he said helplessly. "People are sick and dying in there. I don't know more than that. I'm just glad I'm out here."

"Well how did it start?" she inquired. "These things usually start somewhere."

"I can't help you," Lennart insisted, stubbornly. "I'm just the stable master. Do you want to board the horses or not?"

Alorra blew out a breath of frustration. This was pointless. She had to get inside the city. But how to do that if it was sealed?

"Where do I take the supplies in the wagon?" Argis asked now. "They're paid for. How do I get them inside?"

Lennart looked relieved. This was a question he could answer.

"Drive the wagon up to the gate and present your papers," he said. "The guards outside will help you unload your goods. After you leave, they'll signal the guards inside and retreat while the stuff's taken inside."

"Good enough," the big Nord rumbled. He turned to Alorra.

"Well, I guess that's it, then, Bright Eyes," he said. "You can still change your mind and come back to Markarth with me."

She shook her head. "I need to get to the bottom of this," she said.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," he muttered. "I can't make you change your mind?"

"I'm sorry, Argis. This is what I was sent here to do."

He ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. "Well, if you're convinced, then I guess there's nothing left to say."

She nodded and held out her hand. "Thank you for your help in getting me here, Argis, as well as the supplies. Have a safe trip back to Markarth."

"I'm not going back," he said.

She blinked. "You're not?"

He gave a self-deprecating grin. "Nope. If you're determined there's something rotten in Skyrim, you're going to need all the help you can get finding out what that is. And since I don't see you using a sword or axe, you'll need some muscle to back you up."

She gave him a blinding smile. She could have leaped at him and hugged him, but knew that would only give him the wrong idea. Instead she settled for presenting her hand again and saying as sincerely as she could, "Thank you, Argis. That means a lot to me."

"Don't get all mushy on me, Bright Eyes," he warned. "We've still got to get inside Whiterun and avoid catching the plague. I hope you have a plan for that."

She refused to be daunted. "I'm working on it," she smiled.


	4. Chapter 3

Deus Occidere

Chapter 3

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

"This was your plan?" Argis complained. "Walk right into a plague-ridden city?" His voice was muffled behind the cloth he pressed over his face.

"You notice they didn't stop us," Alorra pointed out as they passed the silent smithy on the right and the closed inn on the left. The streets were empty, and an eerie quiet had settled over the town. There were no bodies lying around, which she thought was odd. If there truly was a plague here, there should have been dead and dying all over the place; the air should have been thick with the pungent, sickening odor of decay. At the very least, there should have been clouds of flies everywhere. But there was nothing.

"That's only because you told them you're a Healer," the big Nord said sourly. "You'd better be right about that. Where do you want to start?"

"Let's head up the hill and see if we can find out where everyone is."

As they approached the central market, two children, poking around the market stalls, suddenly stopped when they saw the mercenary and the young woman. They dropped the apples they had scrounged and scurried to hide behind one of the empty stalls.

Immediately Alorra waved Argis to hold back and wait. She approached cautiously and crouched down. "It's alright, don't be afraid," she smiled encouragingly. "I won't hurt you. Come on out."

"What about _him?_" asked the girl. The boy elbowed her to shush her. They couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old, either of them.

"He won't hurt you either," Alorra assured them. "What's your name?"

"Agna," replied the girl. "And this is my cousin Konur. He's Jarl Torolf's son."

"Agna!" the boy scowled. "We're not supposed to talk to strangers!"

Alorra smiled. "Well, do you know what they say about strangers?" she asked.

Unsure, the children shook their heads.

"A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet," the red-haired girl said, as winningly as she could. "My name is Alorra, and this is Argis. We're here to help, if we can. Can you tell me what's happened here, Konur?"

Torn between following the restrictions of his elders and wanting to believe the stranger, the boy finally muttered, "They're all sick. Some of them even died. I got sick, but I got better. So did Agna."

"Where is everyone?" Alorra asked. "Couldn't the healers at the Temple take care of them?"

"The healers died first," Agna said sadly. "So did my Mama…" her face screwed up as though she wanted to cry, but no tears came.

_The poor child,_ Alorra thought. _She's all cried out._

She looked more closely at the children, now that they had shuffled a little closer, out into the open. She saw several fading red pock marks on their hands and faces.

"Did you get those spots while you were sick?" she asked gently.

Agna nodded. "They itched really bad, too."

This was interesting. "Were there any other things, like blisters?"

Konur shook his head. "No, but my da and ma have had the fever for a couple of days."

Alorra stood then. "Can you take me to them? I'd like to speak with them."

Konur looked doubtful. "They're both still real sick," he replied. "I don't think I should."

Agna scowled. "Konur! She said she wants to help. You _do_ want to help us, right?" she turned to Alorra.

The older girl nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. It's why I'm here."

"I'll take you to Dragonsreach, then, even if Konur won't!"

"I didn't say I _wouldn't,_ Aggie!" he protested. "I just said I didn't _think_ I should! Come on!" he told Alorra, taking charge once more. He turned and headed up the stairs behind him, Agna trailing behind.

Alorra turned back to Argis, who was waiting patiently, and threw him a grin.

"Shall we?"

"If you're sure you know what you're doing, Bright Eyes," he replied, still keeping the cloth over his mouth and nose.

Alorra's first sight of the Wind District was impressive. She remembered it from the game, of course, but nothing prepared her for the splendor of the real thing. The sound of rushing water from the canals spilling down the raceways into the pool surrounding the park; the wind rustling though the blossoms of the Gildergreen tree; the beauty of the Temple of Kynareth on one side, and the impressive façade of Jorrvaskr on the other; and rising above all, beyond another flight of stairs, the majestic fortress that was Dragonsreach itself, situated in the Cloud District.

It was to the Jarl's hall that Konur and Agna led them. There were no guards on duty here. Konur told them that anyone well enough had been sent to the main gate.

Inside it was dim and dusty. There was no fire in the great pit in front of the Jarl's throne, no place settings or food laid on the long tables. Alorra peeked to the right as they headed to the stairs at the back. What had been the chambers of Farengar, the court wizard in the game, were empty and dark, filled with cobwebs. She felt sad about that; she would like to have met his successor, but it appeared there wasn't one.

Argis kept his silence, eyes darting around the shadows, making sure nothing lurked there. He followed a few steps behind Alorra, who followed the children.

Konur led them to the Jarl's private quarters. On the bed were two people, a man and a woman, shivering under the blankets, moaning with fever.

"How long have they been like this?" Alorra asked as she approached. Argis hung back by the door, the cloth still pressed to his face.

"Since the day before yesterday," Konur said. "All the grown-ups are sick. Aggie and I have been looking after ourselves."

"It's the same in the town below," Agna said. "Sigurd and Gerda got sick but are starting to feel better. Sonje died, though," she finished, sadly.

"She was your friend?" Alorra asked sympathetically as she gently pulled back the covers from the Jarl and his lady.

"Yes," Agna said. "She was a couple years younger than me."

"What did they do with the ones who died?" the red-haired Healer inquired.

It was Konur who answered. "Da ordered them taken outside the city and burned," he said soberly. "That is, until he and Ma got sick. Then the guards sealed the main gate. Anyone who died after that got taken to the Hall of the Dead and left there."

"Down in the catacombs?" Argis asked from the doorway. Konur nodded.

"When did people start getting sick?" Alorra asked, finishing her examination. The swollen lymph glands and crusty red rash told her, along with the fever, what she needed to know. She knew what this was.

"I guess about two weeks ago," Konur said. "They blamed it on the Khajiit caravan that came by, because one of them was sick. At first it was only a few people that got sick, but then everyone did."

"Can you help them?" Agna begged.

Alorra smiled. "Yes, dear, I believe I can. I know what this is. I've seen it before. It's called 'measles'. Where I come from, it's usually not life-threatening, but only if you've built up a resistance to it. If you've never encountered it before, it can be devastating." She remembered how the disease had literally wiped out entire tribes of Native Americans when Europeans first came to America.

"I'll need a place to work, to make a potion to help them," she said.

Konur's eyes brightened. "There's the old wizard's workshop!" he offered. "It hasn't been used in a long time, but I think there's some things still there you can use."

"That's a good start," Alorra smiled. "Can you take Argis there? Maybe start cleaning it up so I can use it?"

The boy nodded and headed for the stairs. "Come on, Argis," he called. "I'll show you where it is!"

Argis quirked a smile at Alorra. "I sure hope you know what you're doing," he said pessimistically, but the look he gave her was one of admiration. He followed the Jarl's son downstairs.

"Can I help?" Agna asked enthusiastically. She seemed relieved that someone was in charge.

"Yes, get me a bowl of cool water and some clean cloths," Alorra said. "We need to try to bring the fever down."

She quickly got the girl working on applying cool compresses to the Jarl and his lady, who remained unconscious and unresponsive. Alorra worried it might already be too late to help them, and when Agna left to refill the bowl of water, she used some of her magicka to channel healing spells at both of her patients to give them the strength to pull through.

Jarl Torolf weakly opened his eyes and stared glassily at her. "Who?" he croaked through fever-parched lips.

"Shush," Alorra said softly. "I'm Alorra. I'm here to help." She raised his head slightly and dribbled a few drops of clean water into his mouth. A look of relief washed over him as he worked to take in the precious moisture.

"Gods…..sent….you…" he murmured, before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep again.

_Well, that's not too far from the truth,_ she thought, as she gently wiped his face. She moved over to the Jarl's wife and was tending to her when Agna returned.

"I need you to stay with them, Agna," she said. "Keep bathing their faces. If they wake up, dribble a few drops of clean water into their mouths, okay? They're very dehydrated."

"They're what?" the girl asked puzzled.

"Thirsty," Alorra said, more simply. "Just a few drops at a time, mind you. And keep those compresses going. I'll be back as quickly as I can."

She headed downstairs to the kitchen area to see what she could find. She, Argis and the children would need to eat soon, she knew, but at the moment she was looking for something specific which was never shown in the game. She hoped she'd find it.

_Aha! There you are!_ she thought triumphantly as she opened a stone crock to see it filled with dried oats. _Exactly what I was looking for!_

The crock was huge and heavy, so Alorra opted to fill a smaller bowl with the dried grain and carried it over to the wizard's chambers.

Konur had found some candles and lit them, illuminating what had been Farengar's private quarters. Dust lay thick everywhere and books were strewn about. She could imagine that irascible, cantankerous man in a fit of pique over the condition of his workroom. The thought made her grin.

"What are you so happy about?" Argis growled, lifting a stack of books he'd piled up from the floor onto the table.

Alorra spoke to Konur. "Your father woke up briefly," she said. "He's very weak and has fallen back asleep, but it's a hopeful sign."

"I need to see him!" the boy exclaimed, but Alorra grabbed his arm as he rushed past her.

"Hold on a minute!" she said. "You're not done here yet, and I said he's asleep again. You can see him later. Your cousin is with him and your mother right now, so finish up here first. I need a place to work."

"She's not my real mother," Konur said. "I call her 'Ma', but my real ma died when I was born. I don't remember her. Da married Signy not long after, and she's the best! You can save her too?" The boy was clearly worried for both his parents.

"I'll do everything I can," Alorra assured him. "But the sooner I can work in here, the sooner I can cure them. Have you found a mortar and pestle yet?"

"A what?" the boy asked, puzzled, but Argis said, "I think I saw one in the back room there. We haven't got that far yet."

She found the alchemy implements and took them back to the kitchen area to clean them up. The kitchen was the only room that showed signs of occupation, other than the private chambers upstairs. Alorra surmised the children had kept the place clean as they foraged for food for themselves.

She took her bowl of oats, and the mortar and pestle upstairs with her to relieve Agna.

"You're doing well," she complimented the girl. "Now we need to grind these oats into a powder."

"Why?" the girl asked. "Can't we just cook them down?"

"We could," Alorra agreed, "but they'll be much more effective if we can break them down. I wish I had another mortar and pestle, but we'll have to make do with just this one."

"Is that what that's for?" Agna asked as Alorra began to grind. "I think I saw another one in the kitchen, in a cupboard. Shall I get it?"

"Yes!" Alorra exclaimed. "Make sure it's clean!" she called after the girl, who took off at a run.

An hour later Argis and Konur returned upstairs to report that the wizard's chambers had been cleared.

"We put all the books back in the shelves," the Jarl's son reported. "We also set those two funny tables back against the far wall. What are those for?"

"If my memory serves me right," Argis said, "one is for enchanting items, the other's for making potions. It's the alchemy table you need, right?" he asked Alorra.

"Yes," she nodded. "And I'm hoping there are still some ingredients there I can use."

But Konur shook his head. "We didn't find anything like that," he said. "Just some old crystals. I don't know what they're for, though." He showed her a few petty-sized soul gems he'd found.

"I know what they're for," Alorra said, taking them from him. "But these are empty, so unless and until they get filled, they aren't of much use to anyone."

"How's my da doing?" Konur asked, worried.

Alorra smiled. "I think the compresses and the oatmeal baths have made them feel more comfortable," she replied.

"Oatmeal bath?" Argis queried.

Agna nodded enthusiastically. "Alorra showed me how to make them! We put ground up dried oats into the water. It soothed the itching right away! I wish somebody did this for me, when I was sick!"

"Konur…." a weak voice wheezed. "Where….are…you…boy?"

"Here, Da!" The boy practically leaped to his father's side. His eyes shone with hope. "What is it, Da? Can I get you anything?"

"People…here…who…are they?"

"Friends we haven't met yet, Da," the boy grinned, looking at Alorra as he spoke. She rewarded him with a smile.

"You..you're…..in charge," the Jarl said weakly. "Help….our people."

"I will, Da," Konur promised. "But you're going to get well."

The Jarl shook his head. "No," he croaked. "I'm…dying."

Stricken, Konur looked up at Alorra, who rolled her eyes, gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head.

"He's not dying," she said. "He just thinks he is. Or maybe he wishes he could so he'd feel better. Trust me, he's over the worst of it now, and if I can get that potion brewed, he'll be well on way to recovery."

"What do you need to make the potion?" Agna asked.

"Vampire dust and mudcrab chitin works best," Alorra mused. "But I could also work with charred skeever hide and hawk feathers."

"We don't have anything like that here in Dragonsreach," Agna said, doubtfully.

"Isn't there an apothecary's in town?" Alorra asked. In the game there had been _Arcadia's Cauldron._ She didn't remember seeing it on the way through town, since they'd met the children at that time.

"There's _Cressida's Cauldron,_" Konur offered. "But she was one of the first ones to get sick and die."

"And no one thought to try and see if she had anything left behind in her shop that could help?" Alorra demanded, puzzled.

"I don't know if they did," Konur shrugged, a little defensively. "And anyway, her place is locked up tight. I don't think anyone could have gotten in if they tried. They were all coming down sick at that time."

"You need someone to do a little breaking and entering?" Argis rumbled, cracking his knuckles.

"We'll go together," Alorra said. "I think the children can manage here for a little bit while we check it out."

"I want to come too!" Agna protested.

"No, dear," Alorra said. "I need you to stay here with Konur and keep working to make the Jarl and his lady comfortable. Here, let me do this first." She stepped over to the two invalid adults and cast a simple healing spell on each to give them the strength to fight off their disease. The two children watched her, eyes growing wider every second.

"You really _are_ a healer!" Konur breathed.

Alorra smiled. "Among other things, yes. Now sit tight here. Argis and I will be back shortly."

The trip to _Cressida's Cauldron_ proved as uneventful as it was unproductive. Argis didn't need to break the lock on the door; though it looked intact, it hung on broken hinges. They walked unchallenged into the dim interior of the building. Alorra used her _Candlelight_ spell to illuminate the room. The place had been ransacked. She would have suspected looters, but too many valuable items had been left behind. As she expected, she found only two _Cure Disease _potions hidden away behind the counter, but nothing with which to make more.

"Couldn't we burn a few skeevers down in the dungeons?" Argis asked wryly.

"That would give me one ingredient," Alorra remarked as they headed back to Dragonsreach. "I'd need at least one more."

"There's mudcrabs in the fens to the west of here," Argis said helpfully.

"It will have to do, I guess," she said. "I hate to leave the children alone, though." Something caught her eye as they passed through the Wind District. She hadn't noticed it before, but this time she realized something was missing. Her companion was speaking, however, and she put it to the back of her mind.

"They won't be alone, Bright Eyes," Argis said. "Give the Jarl and his lady those potions there. Once they've recovered they can look after their own kids while you and I hunt down what you need to make more cure potions."

"We'd best do it quickly, then," Alorra said, worried. "There's a lot of people here, and you've already been exposed to it."

"I feel fine," Argis said. "Don't worry about me."

"You feel fine _now_," Alorra pointed out. "The incubation period is about a week."

"Well, what about you, then?" Argis said, a note of concern in his voice. "You've been exposed to it just as long as I have."

"Ah, but you see, I've already had the measles," the red-haired girl replied. "I can't come down with it again." Inspiration struck suddenly. "Which gives me an idea."

"What are you thinking about?" the big Nord rumbled, suspicious. "I don't think I like where this is going."

Alorra chuckled. "I'm convinced you won't!" But she refused to say any more until they returned to the Jarl's palace and administered the potions.

Konur was elated when his father sat up and looked around, clear-eyed for the first time in days. The Jarl was still very weak, however, from being bed-ridden, and Alorra insisted he and Lady Signy drink some broth she and Agna prepared in the kitchen.

"How could this have happened?" Jarl Torolf moaned. "My poor people!"

Alorra's heart went out to the man. Nearly half his city had succumbed to the disease.

"I don't believe the Khajiit were at fault, my lord," Alorra said. "From my knowledge of this disease, they may have been carriers, but they didn't create it."

"I am in your debt, Healer Alorra," the Jarl said humbly. "Ask me for anything. If it's within my power to give it to you, it's yours!"

"Let's hold off on that until we get Whiterun back on its feet, my lord," Alorra said. "There are still many sick people here, and not enough resources to care for them."

"Aye," the Jarl replied. "I can send to the other Holds for more healers, but I doubt they'd want to take the risk to come here."

"Let's not do that," Alorra insisted. "You were very smart to seal Whiterun to keep the disease contained here. We don't need a pandemic sweeping through Skyrim right now. Let's try to eradicate it here before it can spread further."

"I'm open to suggestions, then, Healer," the Jarl said.

Alorra thought for several moments. "My friend Argis, here, had a good idea," she said finally.

He blinked in surprise. "I did?"

"Yes," she grinned. "You suggested we burn a few skeevers to get the charred skeever hide. It would give me one of the ingredients I need and reduce the rodent population at the same time."

"I can see if some of my men are up to the task," Jarl Torolf said. "There are some of the guards that managed to pull through the sickness."

Alorra's eyes lit up. "Excellent! I'll want to talk to them. If my plan works out, I'll be able to make a more potent cure potion, which won't require an entire flask to work."

"Anything you need, Healer Alorra, you just let me know," the Jarl said fervently.

The next forty-eight hours were a whirlwind of activity for Alorra and Argis. He took charge of a small cadre of city guards who had managed to survive the measles. They went into the dungeons under Dragonsreach and into the Hall of the Dead in the Wind District, where they would be most likely to find what they were looking for.

"Never thought I'd end up a skeever-hunter," he growled, but he threw himself into the task and managed to return with enough of the pre-charred hides for Alorra to get started.

"How did you manage to scorch them?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at their somewhat blackened condition.

"Torches work just as well as magic, Bright Eyes," he grinned. "Do you need more? We're thinking of going into the cellars of The Drunken Huntsman and The Bannered Mare."

"As long as it's just skeever hides you bring back," she smiled wryly. "Leave the mead there."

"Awww," he scowled playfully. "You're no fun!" She grinned back. He was certainly becoming more comfortable around her, if his teasing was any indication.

For her own part, Alorra went back to the alchemy shop and brought back as much equipment as she could to help her mass produce a cure. Lady Signy helped to the extent she was able, having some basic knowledge of the healing properties of herbs.

"What happened to the Shrine of Talos that used to be in the park?" Alorra asked the Jarl's wife.

"That hasn't been there in nearly a hundred years," Lady Signy replied, "since the end of the Civil War, at least. My husband's ancestor, Jarl Balgruuf, was ordered by the Empire to take it down. Some say he didn't want to, but since the Empire had defeated the Stormcloaks there wasn't much he could do."

_So in this reality, the Empire had won?_ That was interesting. When she had played the game, she had always sided with the Stormcloaks. Why align yourself with the very people who had tried to cut off your head?

"Are there no other Shrines to the other gods?" Alorra asked. "I thought there was one to Kynareth in the Temple, and one to Arkay in the Hall of the Dead?"

Lady Signy looked troubled. "The Shrines were stolen several weeks ago," she said. "Thieves broke into the Temple in the middle of the night and took it. The priests were murdered. They never found out who did it. Torolf was livid, and sent word to the other Holds by couriers, informing them of what happened here. He also requested that new Shrines be sent, but then we all became ill, and Torolf was forced to seal the city when it became apparent we were dealing with a plague."

_Even more interesting,_ she thought. The Shrines, which could have cured the measles, had been removed prior to the outbreak. The healer-priests had been murdered, and the alchemist was among the first to die of the disease; on top of that there hadn't been a court wizard in long enough that his quarters were gathering dust. The alchemy shop had been robbed of anything that she could have used, and the disease itself was not one associated with the game she'd played a lifetime ago. _Someone is definitely interfering,_ she thought grimly. _No wonder the Boss sent me here._

She knew she needed more information to find out who that someone was, however, and right now, healing the sick was her primary concern.

She worked tirelessly over the next several hours, following the quietly Voiced instructions in her mind, using the equipment available to her, and adding as a last component several drops of her own blood, as well as that of the guards who had survived the disease.

"It has….magical….properties now," she explained carefully. "You'll never get this disease again, and your blood may help to prevent others from getting it, and help those who have it already to recover more quickly."

A few were reluctant to the point of refusal to allow her to take their blood.

"What are you, some kind of vampire?" one man said belligerently. "I'll spill my blood on the battlefield, thank you. You'll not be taking it from me now!"

"Arvad!" the Jarl said sternly. "This woman is trying to save us all. It's your duty to your Hold and its people, as well as to me, that you cooperate. Let her have some of your blood!"

Arvad muttered something under his breath, but dared not disobey his Jarl. He presented his arm.

It was late in the evening before she finished the first batch of potions. Stronger than a standard _cure disease_, she would be able to heal more of the sick with less of the potions. Signy ordered her to get some rest, but Alorra refused.

"We need to go house to house," she insisted tiredly. "Everyone needs some of this to get better. There's a good chance we can wipe this out in just a few days' time!"

"I'll help you, then," the Jarl's wife offered, though she looked worn out herself, having only recently recovered. "Just tell me what to do."

"We'll help, too," Konur and Agna said together.

In the end, she gave each of them a bottle of the precious potion and instructions on how much to give every afflicted citizen. Starting with those remaining at Dragonsreach and working their way down to the city gates, they made sure to miss no one. Alorra insisted on giving Argis a dose first.

"Is this really necessary?" he complained. "I'm telling you, Bright Eyes, I feel fine."

"And I'd like it to stay that way," she said, holding out the spoonful of red liquid.

"But it has your blood in it," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"I can't believe you're being such a baby about this, Argis," she fumed. "Just take the damned stuff!"

He glared at her, but opened his mouth and accepted the dosage.

"Hey!" he said in surprise. "It tastes like cherries!"

"See?" she smiled sweetly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

As the shadows lengthened over Whiterun, Alorra came to the end of her bottle of medicine. The guardhouse was all that was left, and she met Signy and the children there.

"I'm all out," said Konur, tipping his bottle upside down.

"Me too," said Agna.

"I have a little left," Signy said.

"Good," said Alorra. "Give it to me and I'll finish up here. You three can head back to Dragonsreach."

They left her there and she turned to walk over to the guardhouse.

Her hand was on the doorknob when a warping sound near the gate drew her attention. It was just the same kind of sound the game used when an atronach had been summoned. She immediately went on the defensive and prepared a _firebolt_ spell with her left hand.

_**"So you think you're rather clever, don't you, Outworlder?"**_ a sybillant, sepulchural voice said.

"Who are you?" Alorra demanded. She could see nothing in the shadows by the gate, but she _felt _something there, and from the sense of dread which threatened to overwhelm her, she had a pretty good idea what it was.

_**"You'll know soon enough,"**_ the voice said. It seemed to be neither male nor female; both, and yet neither. _**"I just wanted a good look at my Nemesis' protégée. I must say, I'm underwhelmed."**_

"What do you want?" Alorra asked firmly, keeping the spell ready, and a tight rein on her panic.

_**"From you? Nothing,"**_ the voice sneered. _**"From your…Superior…much. You may have won this little skirmish, Outworlder, but the real war is just beginning. We'll meet again, trust me on this one. And when we do, I'll crush you, insect, for your impudence."**_

The presence faded and Alorra swallowed hard. Never before had she had direct contact with the Enemy. That he had taken a personal interest in her was both flattering and unnerving. She took a deep breath and entered the guard house to finish what she had come here to do.


	5. Chapter 4

Deus Occidere

Chapter 4

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Argis found Alorra on the balcony of Dragonsreach, standing at the wall overlooking the tundra heath of Whiterun Hold. She didn't react as he approached, and he wondered if she even heard him.

"I've been looking for you, Bright Eyes," he said, coming up next to her and leaning on the wall. "So's Jarl Torolf. You shouldn't keep a Jarl waiting."

"Mmm," was all she said, staring out at the landscape.

"You okay?" he asked, turning to look at her. She'd been unusually quiet for the last couple of days as they worked to help the last few citizens recover from the measles.

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "Argis, I want to thank you for all your help recently. I couldn't have done it without you."

He glared at her. "You're saying goodbye." It was a statement, not a question. "Does this have anything to do with why you came back to Dragonsreach the other night looking as white as a ghost?"

She gave a mirthless snort. "Did it show that much?" She turned to face him. "Argis, I don't want to put you in any danger. I've got somebody pretty pissed at me; somebody who's more powerful than you can imagine. I don't want him striking out at you, or using you as a hostage to get to me."

"Last time I checked, I made my own decisions where I go," he scowled. "If this…_someone_…wants to hurt you, then I think you need me with you more than ever."

"I don't think he wants to _hurt_ me," she admitted hollowly. "I think he wants to _turn_ me."

Argis thought about that for several long minutes. "Do _you _think he can?" he asked finally.

Alorra looked up at her companion and—yes, she'd use the word—friend. "I'm _afraid _he might," she admitted. "Who knows what I might be forced to do to save those I've come to care about? I care about the people of Whiterun, and I care about Skyrim. I don't want to see it all destroyed."

Argis nodded. "Then take the fight to your enemy," he said.

Alorra gave another chuckle that had no humor in it. "I would if I knew where to start, and if I thought I could win."

"The outcome of every battle is unknown until it's over," Argis said. "Maybe all you need is a strategy."

She thought about that. "Yes," she said slowly. All strategies began with information, with intelligence about the enemy: his movements, his strengths and weaknesses, his methods of operation. "Argis, you're a genius!" she whooped. "That's exactly what I need!" She didn't hesitate this time, didn't think about it. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek, before racing back to the Main Hall.

For a long moment Argis stood there in bewilderment. One hand slowly rose to touch the cheek she'd kissed. "What did I say?" he wondered aloud.

Jarl Torolf, lord of Whiterun Hold, had insisted on holding a day of recognition honoring Alorra's efforts in saving his people. She hadn't really wanted the notoriety, but could hardly refuse. So many citizens of the city wanted to thank her personally for her help. He also gave her a hefty pouch of coin which she needed badly enough to not turn down.

When she was finally given an opportunity to speak, she accepted the accolades as graciously as she could, taking special care to mention the parts Agna, Konur and Argis had played in helping to find a cure. Argis looked decidedly uncomfortable down at the far end of the table. A small corner table in a dingy inn would have suited him better, and he didn't care to have attention called upon him, but he certainly didn't mind the mead which flowed freely in the Jarl's hall.

The children, however, basked in the glow. Konur sat up straighter and taller, if it was possible, under the praise he received from his mother and father. Agna declared to anyone who would listen that she wanted to be a Healer when she grew up.

By the end of the evening, Alorra found herself made Thane of Whiterun, offered a position at court—which she tactfully turned down—and given Breezehome in which to live.

"It was the home of the Last Dragonborn, when he lived in Whiterun," Jarl Torolf said proudly. "It's only fitting that we give it to _you,_ now, the Savior of Whiterun!"

_At least he's not making me pay for the privilege, like his ancestor did,_ she thought with a touch of amusement. Still, it would be good to have a more permanent base of operations, instead of a room at the inn, or a corner of Dragonsreach, where the temptation to get pulled into local politics might distract her from her true purpose here.

The next morning she and Argis made their way down the hill, greeted warmly by everyone they met, and unlocked the door to Breezehome.

"This place is well-named," Argis observed wryly. "He couldn't have given you something a bit more weatherproof?"

"I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth," Alorra commented. "I'm just grateful to have a roof over my head."

"It would be nice if that roof didn't leak," he returned sourly. "I'll get some tools and supplies and see what I can do here. This place is going to need a little work."

He wasn't wrong about that. Though the house was the former home of the legendary Last Dragonborn, not much had been done to it in the last few decades, and 'disrepair' would have been the kindest word to describe it. The interior was filled with dust, dirt, cobwebs and debris: in fact, almost the way it appeared at the start of the game, except this time at least, there were furnishings. Argis wasn't wrong about the roof—it had several holes in it, which she discovered upon climbing to the second floor. There was water damage in several places that would need to be repaired.

Most of the furnishings were exactly as she remembered them from the game, right down to the wall hangings, but they had faded or deteriorated from nearly a century of neglect. It might once have been practically a Shrine to the Dragonborn, but it was _her_ home now, and she intended to make it habitable.

Over the next fortnight Alorra and Argis worked from sun up to sun down cleaning, repairing and restoring the tiny house. Alorra had tactfully turned down Jarl Torolf's offer of a Housecarl, explaining as much of her mission as she felt he would understand. He was more understanding than she expected him to be, and graciously agreed not to assign anyone to her.

For his part, Argis informed Alorra that as far as he was concerned, he was her bodyguard, and would go wherever she had to go. "I'm not going to argue about this, Bright Eyes," he said, intensely. "This is something I have to do. Don't ask me any questions, okay?"

She didn't need to. Alorra already had a pretty good idea there was something in Argis' past that was eating away at him; something that he had failed to do. She'd been there herself and recognized the haunted look in his eyes before he turned away. Without a word, Argis moved his belongings into the Housecarl's quarters upstairs, just off the staircase. Though most nights she threw herself exhausted into the large double-bed in the master's room, there was still that brief period before she fell asleep when she was keenly aware of the man that lay sleeping in the other room not twenty feet away.

_Focus,_ she told herself. _As soon as the house is finished, the real work begins._

The real work, she knew, meant gathering information wherever she could find it. Jarl Torolf gave her unlimited access to his personal library, which was extremely generous of him, considering the fact that while books in the game seemed to be everywhere, in reality they were hard to come by and fragile.

She didn't really think she would find very much in the books, however. The Enemy didn't work that way. He preferred to use minions to do his work, and his existence had never been mentioned in any of the lore of Tamriel set forth by the creators of the game. No, she was truly on her own here, floundering in the dark. She had to keep her eyes and ears open to any and all rumors and reports of strange happenings.

Argis volunteered for this duty when she suggested it.

"I can find out what the innkeepers know," he said. "A lot of people come through their doors. If something odd is happening somewhere in Skyrim, sooner or later the publicans hear about it."

"I'll keep talking to the merchants and farmers," Alorra said. "And the next time the Khajiit come around, I want to talk to them, too."

"A lot of people still blame them for the plague—I mean, the measles," Argis pointed out. "They may not be welcomed back here."

"I have to try," she insisted. "I'll keep spreading the word that they're not responsible. I think in time the citizens here will believe me."

In spite of the overwhelming pressure of trying to complete her mission, Alorra made time each day to walk around Whiterun and meet with the people. She spent time at the Temple of Kynareth, which now had three new priests in residence, offering her healing skills if they were needed.

_Cressida's Cauldron_ was taken over by Cressida's granddaughter, Nimue, and soon the alchemy shop was up and running again. Nimue was older than Alorra appeared to be, being almost forty years of age, and she decided against changing the name of the shop.

"It's been _Cressida's Cauldron_ for so long," she laughed. "Folks around here would still keep calling it that even if I did change the name."

The general goods store also re-opened, and the proprietor looked so much like Belethor from the game that once again, Alorra felt certain he had to be a descendent. Florian was quick to acknowledge that his store had been family-owned for four generations. He was also just as sleazy as his ancestor. "If there's anything I can help you with," he leered, "_anything_ at all, you just let me know."

So far, no one had heard of any rumors of strange occurrences or unusual activity. Argis didn't have much better luck. "There's nothing going on out there, Bright Eyes," he reported. "Looks like your Enemy has gone into hiding."

"That's part of _his_ strategy," she confirmed. "Lay low and wait for everyone to relax their guard."

Argis nodded. "If I was an evil overlord, it's what I'd do."

One morning, a few days later, Alorra suddenly remembered her promise to Hjalmar, the innkeeper at Rorikstead. She mentioned it to Argis as they broke their fast.

"That's a lot of territory to cover," he said doubtfully. "They could have gone anywhere after they got married. Maybe the old man only hoped they'd come back to Rorikstead. There's not much there for a young couple just starting out."

"I promised," Alorra said stubbornly. "I have to try."

Argis sighed. They'd just gotten settled in, too. "When do you want to leave?"

The Temple of Mara, where all young couples in Skyrim went to get married, was located in Riften, the capital city of the Hold known, ironically enough, as The Rift. The game never prepared Alorra for the stench of stagnant canal water and rotting fish which permeated the air.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "How do the people here get used to that?"

"I think they're born without the ability to smell," Argis drawled. "Let's not spend any more time here than we have to."

The Temple was situated near Mistveil Keep on the eastern edge of Riften. A wooden boardwalk bordered the canal on both sides, with causeways crossing it here and there to allow people to access the center of town. Below this, Alorra knew, at the water's edge was the Ratway.

Alorra and Argis headed directly for the Temple. She'd played the game often enough to know that Riften was home to the Thieves' Guild, and she kept a firm hand on her belt pouch full of coins. Once inside the Temple, she relaxed a bit and sought out the priest in charge.

"Are you two looking to get married?" the young man smiled, introducing himself as Perronel.

"What?" Alorra blinked. "Married? No!" She failed to keep a blush from rising in her cheeks and fought to keep her voice under control. She refused to look at Argis to see what his reaction had been. "We were looking for information on a young couple who were supposed to have come here about six weeks ago: Muiri and Hamund, from Rorikstead. Do you remember them?"

Perronel thought for several moments. "Hmmm….we haven't had that many marriages in the last couple of months. Yes, I think I do remember them. She was a very pretty dark-haired girl with lively brown eyes and a bubbly personality. He was more subdued, but a fine-looking young man—tall, blonde and burly. He was absolutely smitten with her."

"So you married them?" Alorra clarified.

"I did, and they stayed the night at the Bee and Barb before they went home."

"They said they were going home?" Argis asked. "You're sure of that?"

"Pretty sure," Perronel said. "The young man, Hamund, said he was going to purchase some land and they were going to set up their own farmstead there."

"Thank you," Alorra said. "You've been very helpful." She gave him a small donation of coins from her pouch.

They left the Temple and headed back out into the streets of Riften.

"Where to now?" asked Argis.

"The Bee and Barb," said Alorra. "Let's see if the innkeeper remembers them staying there."

The Argonian behind the counter was not Keerava, but in Alorra's limited experience, most Argonians looked the same to her. The sign outside claimed the proprietor's name was Kaneesha.

"If you've got money I'm listening," the lizard-girl said, "otherwise, don't waste my time."

"Just as charming as Keerava," Alorra couldn't help blurting out.

"Hold your tongue, fire-head," Kaneesha hissed. "How dare you insult my egg-mother that way?"

This was not starting well. "I humbly beg your pardon," Alorra said, giving a slight bow. "I meant no disrespect."

"Well," the Argonian said slowly, "I'll let it pass this time. You're too young to have known her anyway."

_You have no idea,_ Alorra thought, but kept the words to herself this time. "I was hoping you could tell me something about a young couple who came to Riften a few weeks ago to get married. I'm told they stayed here."

"I get a lot of people through here," Kaneesha said indifferently. "And you smooth-skins all look alike to me."

_Okay, I suppose I deserved that, _she thought in amusement.

"The girl was dark-haired with a…bubbly…personality," Alorra said. "The young man was tall, blonde and muscular."

The Argonian sniffed. "That could describe any number of my patrons," she sneered.

Argis leaned forward from behind Alorra and rumbled, "Maybe this would help jog your memory." He placed a handful of gold coins on the counter, which the lizard-girl quickly palmed and put in the pocket of her apron. Alorra pulled a moue with the corner of her mouth. She should have thought of that herself.

"Hmmm….yes, now that I come to think of it, I _do_ remember that young couple," Keerava's daughter mused. "Very much in love, they were; talked about buying a farm or something back home."

"Did they leave Riften?" Argis asked.

"They didn't end up in the canal, if that's what you're suggesting," Kaneesha snapped. "Yes, as far as I know, they left Riften to head back home. That's all I know."

"Thanks," he rumbled, tossing her one more coin which she caught on the fly. He guided Alorra out of the Bee and Barb.

"I should pay you back for the coin you just spent," Alorra said. "I should have realized she wouldn't give up information for free."

"Forget about it, Bright Eyes," Argis said. "You're too young to know that's how the world works."

"I'm a lot older than I look, Argis," she said cryptically, but he didn't inquire further and she didn't offer any more explanations.

"Now what do we do?" he inquired. "They could have taken any number of routes back to Rorikstead."

"Let me think for a minute," she said, sitting down on a bench nearby. He remained standing, patiently waiting for her.

In the game, she always had an arrow to point her in the direction of her objective. She didn't have that now. In the game, if she wanted to find the easiest way to get to a location, she would have used—

"That's it!" she grinned. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the young couple she'd never met. She only had their descriptions, but she desperately wanted to find them, or news about them. She opened her eyes and stood up, summoning the energy within her. She gestured with her hands and spoke a single word: _"Seek!"_

A purple-white vapor trail emanated from her and roiled forward, leading to the gates and beyond.

"What the—" Argis exclaimed, startled.

"There's our trail," Alorra said, satisfied. "Let's follow it!"

Her _seeking_ spell only lasted for an hour before it faded, but they made good time and covered a lot of ground before she had to re-cast it. Alorra decided against taking a carriage back to Rorikstead to follow her trail. At any point it might have veered away from the carriage route, depending on what had happened to the young couple. It would be better to follow it on foot. She would have preferred horseback, but didn't have enough money for two.

All day long they followed the trail westward, allowing the purple-white vapor to lead them to their goal. They were losing the daylight when Argis finally called a halt.

"How much longer do we follow this?" he groused. "Are we any closer to learning something useful?"

"We'll keep following it to the end, Argis," Alorra said firmly. "It's the only way we're going to find them."

"Well, unless you can see in the dark, Bright Eyes, we're going to have to stop soon and make camp somewhere," he pointed out. "We're sitting ducks out here for any wildlife that thinks we're food. Not to mention any bandits that think we might be an easy target."

Alorra sighed. "You're probably right, Argis. Where should we set up?"

He scanned the area. "That hollow over there is probably the best place," he said. "There's not much around here. We'll have the bluff at our backs, and it offers a little bit of protection from the wind."

"No fire?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It might keep the animals away, but it's a beacon for bandits."

"We'll have to chance it, then," she said. "I'm not a Nord, like you. I feel the cold right down in my bones."

They quickly set up camp, clearing an area for a small fire and eating a quick meal of dried meat, fruit and bread washed down with ale for Argis and water for Alorra.

"You don't drink, do you, Bright Eyes?" he asked her, curious.

"Of course I do," she said, grinning. "I have water."

"Not what I meant," he growled, "and you know it. I meant you don't drink ale or wine or mead."

"I have, in the past," she admitted. "But I feel this time I need to keep a clear head, and my wits about me."

"'This time'," he repeated. "What do you mean by that? Just who _are_ you?" He gave her a penetrating look. "Out with it," he said sternly. "I think I'm entitled to know."

Alorra sighed in frustration. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

She blew out another impatient breath. "Okay, I'll tell you, but try to keep an open mind."

He did try, but some of the things she told him were beyond his comprehension. He let her go on, just hoping to keep up with the important points.

"So…" he mused slowly. "You're actually not this young, beautiful girl I see in front of me, but a seventy-year-old grandmother?"

"No!" she glared. "I mean, yes, that's who I was in my last life." _Did he just call me 'beautiful'?_

"And you've lived all these different lives before, but never remembered them until now?"

"I wasn't a full Agent until now," she explained. "I told you, the Birthing process wipes our memories."

"And you've been sent here from some other place where this is all just a game?" That was the point he found hardest to believe. "None of this is real?"

"That's not what I said!" she denied, irritably. "Tamriel is real; you're real. _All_ of this is real. But in the world I came from it was a form of entertainment."

"Am I entertaining you now?" he drawled, and she caught a glimmer of amusement in his golden eyes.

"You son of a bitch!" she glared. "You're making fun of me now!"

"A little," he couldn't help chuckling, then he sobered. "But seriously, I can't understand half of what you said. What I do know is this: you're a good person, Bright Eyes, and you want to help. There aren't too many people like you in the world. If there really _is_ some big, bad, evil thing that wants to destroy my world, and you've been sent from wherever it is to try to fight it, then I'm with you."

"In spite of the fact I'm an Outworlder?" she said, recalling the name the Enemy had given her.

"Or maybe because of it," Argis shrugged. "If this was all a game to you before, you're going to need help adjusting to this reality. And maybe it might help if there's one person you can talk to who knows your secret."

She couldn't argue that point.

"Then since we're sharing secrets," she began tentatively, "why not tell me yours?"

He stiffened and she immediately regretted her words. "What makes you think I have secrets?" he demanded guardedly.

"Everyone has secrets, Argis," she insisted. "_Everyone._ Some more than others. Jarls and courtiers usually have a closet full."

He chuckled wryly and she felt the tension break. "That's for sure," he rumbled. He blew out a breath and said, "Alright, but it's not pretty. This happened about eight years ago. You'll probably think twice about wanting someone like me watching your back."

"I'll decide that," she said quietly, and listened as he began his tale.

_"We have to take out the Hagravens if we're going to clear this Redoubt, Argis," his Thane told him._

_ "My Thane, there are at least three of them in there, and they probably have a Briarheart with them. We should come back with reinforcements."_

_ But Thane Berend wouldn't be swayed. The young man was filled with stories of honor and glory fed to him by his hero father, Lord Berwick. The elder had spent a lifetime fighting Forsworn in the hills of the Reach, winning his title from the Jarl and his fortunes from the plunder of the ruins inhabited by the renegades and their filthy half-human associates._

_ Argis had been proud to be assigned as Housecarl to young Thane Berend who had proven himself during the Forsworn Uprising five years before, and had been awarded a title in his own right. This was Argis' first assignment as a Housecarl, and he genuinely liked the rash young man to whom he owed his allegiance. But he soon found out that Berend was a glory-seeker. It didn't matter how well he'd fought during the Uprising, he was continually looking for ways to accrue more honor upon himself._

_ "We don't need reinforcements," he said disparagingly now. "Between the two of us we ought to be able to handle them. I'm worth at least three. Let's go." He pierced Argis with a keen look. "Unless you're scared?"_

_ Having his courage called into question by his Thane nearly undid Argis. This was his first assignment and he didn't want to screw it up._

_ "No, my Thane," he said, gripping his sword tighter. "I am your sword and your shield."_

_ "Good," smirked Berend. "Let's go!"_

_ It had been a debacle. They were lured into a trap set by the Briarheart and found themselves not only fighting him and his squadron of Forsworn, but three Hagravens as well, who continually threw balls of fire at the two men caught in a dead-end canyon with no other way out but through the gauntlet of enemies behind them._

_ Berend fell just as they had nearly reached safety, and Argis swooped his Thane up onto his back to carry him the rest of the way. Only when he felt he'd put enough distance between himself and the Forsworn did he stop to rest. And it was only then that he realized it was already too late; his Thane was dead._

_ The young man's father didn't see it as a failing of judgment on his son's part. He blamed Argis._

_ "You were his Housecarl!" Lord Berwick raged. "You were supposed to guard him with your life! How is it that you have returned and my son is dead? Explain that to me!"_

_ Argis stammered and stumbled over his words, but the man was too grief-stricken to listen._

_ "Get out!" he stormed. "You're not worthy of being a Housecarl! I dismiss you from my service! Go fall on your sword somewhere, but get out of my sight! Oh, my son….my son!"_

"I've been a mercenary ever since," Argis finished, taking a long pull from his ale bottle.

"Wow," Alorra breathed. "That was pretty harsh of him. How could you be blamed for his son's foolishness?"

"I was sworn to protect him," Argis said steadily, not looking at her but at the fire. "I failed."

"That doesn't mean you can protect him from his own stupidity," Alorra said drily. "You tried, at least. You tried to persuade him to wait and he wouldn't. The fault is not yours."

"That's not how his father saw it," Argis murmured.

"Then his father was just as much a meat-head as his son," Alorra said sharply. "All you can do is what you _can_ do," she said. "It's the fact that you _did_ try that's important." _It's more than I did,_ she thought, but kept that to herself.

Argis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thanks," he said, "but it's going to take a while before I can accept that for myself."

"So in the meantime, you're going to mope about it?"

"Mope?" he said sharply, with indignation. He glared at her. "Who said I'm moping?"

"I did, if you continue to let it bother you," she insisted. "It's in the past, Argis. You can't change what happened. You can only learn the lesson from it and move on. In each life I've lived, I've had a lesson to learn, to bring to my next life. Before now, I was never aware of those past lives, but the lessons remained and were built into my character."

"And what lesson did your last life teach you?" he asked, curious.

She smiled. "Laugh," she said.

"That's it?"

"That's it. It's a big lesson for a lot of people to learn," she explained. "So many people go through their lives so seriously. Humor gets us through the rough times. You have to take time to find humor in life; you'll never get out of it alive, you know."

He blinked at her, then a smile slowly spread over his face and he began to chuckle. "That's pretty good, Bright Eyes, you know that?" he grinned.

She grinned back. "I know."


	6. Chapter 5

Deus Occidere

Chapter 5

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Alorra insisted on taking her turn standing watch while Argis slept, and he reluctantly agreed, after making her promise to wake him after four hours.

"I think I know you well enough to know you'll keep a promise if I get you to say the words," he grinned.

In a fit of pique she childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't stick it out there unless you intend to use it, Bright Eyes," he leered, dangerously, chuckling wickedly as she blushed to the roots of her hair. He lay down on his bedroll, still in his steel armor and was soon fast asleep.

Why, oh why did this body of hers blush so easily? It wasn't as if she hadn't had sex before; she had, just not with this body. So why did the thought of using her tongue on him make her blush like a schoolgirl? She decided it might be safer not to pursue that particular line of thinking.

Instead, to pass the time and help her to stay awake, she practiced conjuring an ethereal bow with arrows. When she finally managed to get one that didn't turn to vapor in her hands, she picked a knot on a tree just at the edge of their firelight and spent time trying to hit it with her arrows. It was quite a while before she was able to hit the knot consistently. She had played around with archery in one of her past lives, but until now it had never meant the difference between life and death, as it well might here.

By the time she woke Argis to take his turn at watch, she felt confident she would be able to cast the spell again, if needed. Whether she would actually be able to hit anything with her conjured arrows was another matter altogether.

Argis woke her as the sun began to brighten the sky. It hadn't emerged over the hills to the east, yet, but they quickly broke their fast and their camp and set off as soon as they could, following Alorra's _seeking_ spell.

It was just before midday when they pulled up just short of a ridge. Argis held up his hand and motioned her to stay put while he crept up the hill to peer over the top. For the last half hour the color of her vapor trail had intensified, and she knew they were getting close. She'd said as much to her companion, and for that reason, when they knew they had almost reached their goal, Argis cautioned her to let him scout ahead.

The plume of purple spilled over the top of the ridge and cascaded down to a small cave opening across a clearing riddled with streamlets and ledges. Two black-robed men stood guard at the entrance.

Alorra crawled up beside him to have a look for herself.

"How come they can't see your trail?" Argis whispered.

"Because it's my spell, not theirs," she replied.

"Well how come I can see it?" he countered.

"You're on my side," she answered. He nodded, satisfied.

"Well," he commented, speaking in a low rumble, "that's where Muiri and Hamund ended up."

"We have to go in," she said. He nodded again.

"I figured as much. Stay behind me once we're inside."

"Fine, but let's take out the two outside as quietly as we can," she said, indicating the two sentries lingering near the cave entrance.

"I can do that," he said, shrugging his bow off his back.

"So can I," she replied, with more confidence than she felt.

Ducking back behind the hill, Alorra cast her ethereal bow and arrows and readied them before creeping back to the top of the ridge. At Argis' nod they let fly their arrows, his steel one, and her ethereal one.

Both arrows struck true, and the two men guarding the cave entrance sank to the ground with barely a whimper.

"Nice shooting!" Argis praised. His estimation of her rose again. He hadn't known she could do that.

"I wish I didn't have to," she said sadly. "I don't like killing."

"Better get used to it, Bright Eyes," Argis said flatly. "This is your reality now. Do you honestly think these two would have let us just walk in here?"

"No," she admitted. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it." She took a deep breath. "Come on, let's see if Muiri and Hamund are here."

They entered the cavern and Alorra waited for a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She would have liked to fire off a _Candlelight_ spell, but until they knew what they were facing, she didn't want to give their position away.

Argis moved slowly ahead of her, and more quietly than she would have expected from a man clad mostly in steel. His sword was out now, the bow having been replaced in its customary spot on his back. Alorra kept her ethereal bow at the ready and kept pace behind him as quietly as she could. They followed the cavern as it narrowed down to little more than a tunnel through which they had to crouch to pass. Alorra could hear the sound of water from somewhere ahead, and a pale, faint bluish light glowed from somewhere beyond the bend of the tunnel.

As they turned a corner she could see glowing mushrooms clinging to the tunnel walls. As urgent as their quest was, Alorra couldn't help stopping to pick them. Argis moved on ahead of her and she hurried to catch up once she stowed the fungus in her backpack. She might never get another chance to gather any, she thought, and they were definitely ingredients with magical properties.

Several yards further on Argis stopped just short of an opening which widened into a large, well-lit cavern. Alorra heard voices from somewhere ahead of them.

"For the glory of Melek Taus," a male voice droned.

"This we do in his name for his honor," said another.

_Melek Taus?_ Why did that name fill her with dread? She didn't think she'd ever heard it before, but it foreboded malevolence. She peered past Argis' shoulder and saw a stone table, similar to the one on which she'd awoken to this world, surrounded by candles. Two men in black robes were chanting, with daggers raised. On the table, secured by chains, was a blonde woman, stripped naked and gagged with a dirty cloth stuffed in her mouth. Grunts and moans came from her as she writhed and struggled against her bonds.

"Argis!" Alorra exclaimed in a whisper.

"Already on it," he growled, rushing forward.

"No! Not that way!" she cried. _Idiot!_ she thought. _They might kill her anyway!_

Argis roared in fury as he ran toward the altar. "I'm gonna cut you in half!"

Gritting her teeth in frustration, Alorra loosed an arrow from her ethereal bow. She missed the priest closest to the girl, however, and her arrow dissipated against the stone wall behind him.

Drat! This was not the time to be missing! She took more careful aim with her second shot, while the priest seemed to be rushing through his incantations to get to the part where he could make the sacrifice. Alorra loosed a second arrow, but hit the dagger instead of the priest. It went spinning through the air and landed several feet away in a mushroom-filled corner of the cavern.

_Well, that works, too,_ she thought.

The priest facing Argis had dropped his dagger and was keeping a shield up with one hand while simultaneously shooting bolts of ice at Argis. The big Nord grunted every time one pierced him, but continued to advance on the necromancer and swung with his sword. It was over very quickly, thin woolen robes unable to withstand sharpened steel.

The other priest turned his attention to Alorra. _"You!"_ he exclaimed, recognition in his gaze and voice. That unnerved her. She didn't know this man. How could he know her?

He pointed both hands at her and channeled pure electrical energy at her. Alorra suddenly went rigid as every nerve in her body seized. Her ethereal bow vanished as pain suffused her entire being. Concentration was impossible. She couldn't gather enough of her own energy to counter what the necromancer was doing to her.

"We were warned you might try to interfere!" the man gloated, moving closer, but keeping the electrical current focused on her. "Lord Melek will be pleased to know we've eradicated you this day!"

"Think again, skeever-brain!" Argis roared as he brought his sword down for a mighty blow to the man's back. Instantly the electricity died and Alorra sank to the ground, unable to move. Argis drew back and with one swift motion decapitated the black-robed priest.

The blonde girl on the altar was screaming something unintelligible behind the gag, and for a moment Argis was torn between releasing her, or checking on Alorra. Glancing swiftly around, he could see another tunnel beyond a short ramp leading deeper into the cave complex. Since this girl was blonde, not dark-haired, he knew it couldn't be Muiri, which meant they would have to keep going further in. He made the choice to check on Alorra first, since the sacrificial victim was safe enough where she was for the moment.

As he reached her, feeling began to return to Alorra's extremities in a painful, pins-and-needles fashion.

"Ohhhh," she moaned as she sat up. "The game didn't prepare me for _that!_"

Relieved, Argis said sharply, "You're going to need better armor than that dress if you're going to go up against necromancers again."

"You're preaching to the choir, Argis," Alorra said shakily. "How is the girl? Did we save her?"

"She's fine. We'll cut her loose in a moment. I just want to make sure you're okay. That looked painful."

"Trust me, it was," she said ruefully, getting to her feet. She wobbled over to the altar, leaning on Argis' arm for support.

"Hush!" she told the girl, who was still trying to scream. "We'll get you free. Argis, see if you can find anything for her to wear." He obediently began searching the area while Alorra examined the manacles that held the girl to the table.

Alorra only had a couple of lockpicks on her, the ones she'd acquired when she first woke up in Skyrim, and she had no real idea how to pick a lock. She settled for searching the bodies of the two necromancer-priests. She found several soul gems of varying sizes on both men—including some that were filled—in addition to some gold and gems, and two large brass keys. One of them opened the manacles. She helped the girl sit up and removed the gag from her mouth.

"Ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods—" the girl moaned.

"Shhhh," Alorra soothed, hugging her close. "You're going to be alright now. What's your name, dear?"

"Elsbet", she stammered, trembling. "Wh-who are you?"

"I'm Alorra," the red-haired girl smiled reassuringly. "That's Argis. We came here looking for two people. Maybe you saw them? A young couple, just married?"

"I don't remember," Elsbet wept. "Those men! They were going to kill me!"

"Hush, now," Alorra soothed as Argis came up with a cloak, a blood-stained tunic and shoes he'd found in a charnel pit on the other side of the cavern. He resolved not to tell Alorra what he'd seen there.

"This is all I could find here," he said, deliberately not looking at Elsbet. "There might be more further in."

"I'm not going back in there!" the girl wailed, near panic.

"No, of course not," Alorra said. "But I need you to tell me what's going on."

As Elsbet broke down weeping again, Alorra reined in her frustration. She needed answers, and right now the only one who could give them to her was having a nervous breakdown—not that she blamed the poor child. The Creator only knew what she'd been through.

Sighing, Alorra drew upon her magical energy once more and breathed, _"Calm."_

In a moment, Elsbet stopped trembling and weeping. "What did you do to me?" she asked, but her voice was much more controlled.

"Just a little something to steady your nerves, my dear," Alorra smiled. "Now, do you think you can remember what happened?"

Elsbet nodded. "Our village was raided the day before yesterday," she said as she quickly dressed herself. Argis tactfully kept his back turned, but Alorra knew he was listening. "The brigands only seemed to be after one thing: young men and women, about my age. They brought us here and put us in cages further back in the tunnels. There must have been fifty or sixty young people at least. It looked like they were collecting them a long time."

"What were they collecting them for?" Argis rumbled.

"Sacrifices, I think," Elsbet said, unable to repress a shudder. "It's what they intended to do to me before you stopped them. Thank you so much for saving my life!"

"Why were they making the sacrifices?" Alorra asked.

"I don't know," she said, shuddering again. "All I know is what the others told me, that they would take a dozen or so from the cages one night a week. They took the ones who gave them the most trouble first."

"Are there other priests back in the caverns?" Argis asked, cleaning his blade on the robes of one of the priests.

"Yes," Elsbet answered, clutching the cloak more tightly around her. "I saw at least a dozen before they brought me out here.

"Did you see a young couple?" Alorra asked. "A dark-haired girl and a burly blonde man, newly married."

"Muiri and Hamund?" the girl asked. "Yes! I was caged with them. They're still back there, if the priests haven't sacrificed them yet. There's another altar further in. They set this one up because their leader said they weren't sacrificing victims fast enough." Her lower lip trembled.

"Who's their leader?" Alorra asked. "Did they ever say his name?"

"I think his name was Ragnvald," Elsbet said. "I'm sure that's the name I heard him called by one of the other priests."

Argis raised an eyebrow at Alorra over his shoulder. She shook her head. It didn't sound familiar to her.

"Where is this Ragnvald now?" Alorra asked Elsbet. "Is he still here?"

"No," the girl replied. "He told them he was going to Winterhold."

"Winterhold?" Argis asked sharply. "Why would anyone go to Winterhold? There's nothing there."

"There's the College," Alorra pointed out.

Argis shook his head. "Not anymore," he said. "About forty years ago there was another Cataclysm, and the whole thing—the College, the town, the people, _everything_—just fell into the Sea of Ghosts. There's literally nothing there now."

Elsbet nodded. "That's true. Most people think the land is cursed now."

"Alright, thank you, Elsbet," Alorra said, troubled. "Can you find your way home from here?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And thank you again!" She left the cavern at a run and didn't look back.

"What do you think?" Argis asked. "Do we keep going through the tunnels here, or head to Winterhold."

"Muiri and Hamund may still be here," Alorra said. "At the very least, my seeking spell indicated this is where they ended up. And we can't leave this nest of necromancers to prey on anyone else. We have to clean house."  
Argis gave a feral grin. "I was hoping you'd say that." He hefted his sword and pointed toward the earthen ramp. "That looks like the way to go."

Alorra took a deep breath. "Let's do this, then!"

As they moved quietly through the next tunnel, Alorra thought about what she'd learned so far: young people were being sacrificed to someone—or some_thing_—called Melek Taus. This man named Ragnvald seemed to be the one in charge, and he'd gone to Winterhold, which was now sundered. That in itself was a huge disappointment to her. She'd hoped to be able to visit the College and browse through the library. The loss of all that knowledge was devastating.

Alorra had a sinking feeling she'd already met this Melek Taus in her confrontation with the Enemy at the gates of Whiterun. Was that the name he was using here? It seemed very likely. The name had never appeared in any of the lore of the game.

But why were the necromancers sacrificing the young people? That didn't make sense. The Enemy preferred converts, not sacrifices.

Argis had stopped in front of her, and she nearly plowed into him.

"Hey! Watch it!" he growled.

"Sorry!" she whispered. "Why did you stop?"

"Have a look," he muttered, gesturing to the cavern beyond.

This one was larger than the other, and was lined with cages filled with dejected young people. Several feet above the main floor was a balcony or mezzanine area overlooking the cages. Centered on this was a large sacrificial altar. Beyond the altar, crudely affixed to the wall behind it, was a rough wooden carving of a figure she recognized from another world: a man-like figure with the lower quarters of a goat, with cloven hooves and a long, spear-like tail. The horned head leered evilly over the cavern, lolling out a forked tongue in a most lascivious manner. Brownish stains she recognized as dried blood had been painted on the carving.

"By the gods!" Argis whispered. "What in Oblivion _is_ that thing?"

"That, my friend, is our Enemy, Melek Taus," Alorra whispered back.

Surrounding the altar were six black-robed priests. They looked to be preparing the altar for yet another sacrifice. In the cages below, some of the prisoners whimpered and prayed. Alorra pulled Argis back down the tunnel to consider their next course of action.

"How are we going to do this?" Argis asked. "I don't feel like getting shot full of ice again if I can help it."

"Let me think for a minute," she said, her mind racing.

"Better think quick, Bright Eyes," he said. "Some of those folks are going to get the knife soon if we can't stop those priests."

"I know, I know," Alorra said, frustrated. Her Superior had entrusted this mission to her, having every confidence she could succeed. If the Creator believed she could do it, how could she not believe in herself?

"I think I've got it, Argis," she said. "I just need you to stay back a moment and let me get one spell off, then you can do what you do best."

"I'm all for that, Bright Eyes," he grinned. "I'll follow your lead."

When did she stop feeling irritated at him calling her 'Bright Eyes'? It seemed more like banter than insult now.

_Come on, Alorra, focus,_ she told herself sternly. She crept back to the tunnel's opening. Moving as quietly as she could, and keeping to the shadows as much as possible, she worked her way along the wall to her left where the floor rose to a ledge that ran around behind the cages. Motioning the prisoners to keep quiet, she maneuvered herself into a position where she could see the entire upper level of the cavern.

She summoned the energy within and waited until nearly all the priests were clustered around the altar. Pointing with both hands, she released her power and commanded, _"Hold!"_

Instantly, four of the six men froze in place. The other two shook it off and began to search for the source of the spell. At this point Argis charged in and rushed past Alorra up the ramp to the upper level.

"I'm gonna hit you so hard your ancestors will feel it!" he roared.

Alorra rolled her eyes. _Men and their battle cries_, she snorted to herself.

A bolt of lightning hit the wall next to her, and she quickly brought her mind back to the job at hand. With one hand she put up her _shield_ spell again, large enough to protect both herself and the prisoners. It was becoming easier to create it, each time she did it. With the other hand, she cast through her shield and summoned her wolf familiar once more.

"Go get him, Wolfie!" she ordered. The ghostly lupine howled and followed Argis up the ramp, leaping onto the priest that had cast the lightning bolt at her. Caught off guard, the priest had no defense against the familiar's vicious attacks, and went down with a whimper.

By the time Argis had taken out his first opponent, the other four were rousing themselves from the _hold_ Alorra had put upon them. She wasn't happy that it had lasted only a short time, but at least it had given Argis and the ghost wolf a chance to even the odds. Wolfie leaped at a second necromancer, tearing out the man's throat. One of the others shot the familiar with bolt after bolt of ice until it yelped and winked out.

"I've got more where he came from," Alorra yelled, still keeping the shield up. "Come on back, Wolfie!" She summoned him again and sent him against the necromancers as Argis cleaved his way through two more. In a few moments it was all over. The six priests lay dead.

"Elsbet said there were at least a dozen," Argis called. "Where are the others?"

"They've gone to Winterhold," said one of the prisoners, a pretty blonde girl with short cropped hair. "They've taken the soul gems with them."

Alorra let her shield dissipate. "Soul gems? What soul gems?" she asked as she descended the ramp and came around to the front of the cages. "I found some on the priests in the other chamber." She tested the second key she'd taken from the dead priest in the cage lock and found it opened the door, so she quickly released the rest of the prisoners. Some took off running right away, but a few of the others clustered around to thank her.

A burly blonde man spoke up. "They were capturing our souls in those gems," he said.

Alorra looked at him closely. He had his arm protectively around a curvaceous brunette who clung to him. "Are you Hamund?" she asked.

The young man blinked in surprised. "Yes," he said. "How did you know my name?"

Alorra smiled and turned to the girl. "Then you must be Muiri!"

She nodded, her eyes were red with weeping. "Who are you?" she quavered.

"I'm Alorra," she introduced herself. "And this is Argis. I met your father, Hjalmar, in Rorikstead a couple weeks ago. He's been very worried about you, so I told him I'd try to find you."

The girl's lower lip trembled. "I want to go home," she said. Hamund hugged her closer.

"We'll go home right now, dearest," he assured her. "We'll never leave Rorikstead again."

"Please," Alorra said, "before you go, any of you, can you tell me what you know about this Melek Taus, and about someone named Ragnvald? And why were they collecting your souls in the gems?"

Hamund shrugged. "I don't know much," he admitted. "Maybe some of the others here do. One of the priests you killed over there said they needed young souls because they were the strongest."

"That's right," said the blonde girl. She had a horrible gash on one cheek. It looked fresh and was poorly tended. She couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen at the most. Alorra stepped over to her.

"They did this to you?" she asked, sympathetically. The girl nodded.

"I spoke out against them," she said, straightening and clenching her jaw. "They had me in another cell, but I picked the lock and was trying to escape. They caught me and put me in this one that had a better lock." She gave a wry smirk. "I was going to try again tonight, but they started doing the sacrifices, and I couldn't without them seeing me."

Alorra directed a small burst of healing magic at the gash on the girl's face. The blonde girl stepped back, but realized a heartbeat later what this red-haired girl was doing.

"Wow! Thanks!" she grinned. "I thought I'd be scarred for life!"

"What's your name?" Alorra asked.

"Petra," the other girl replied. "I'm from Riften. They waylaid me almost a week ago when I was coming back from a jo—I mean, I was returning home."

Alorra allowed an inward smile. Petra was a thief, and she'd almost admitted she'd been coming back from a job.

"So they were basically harvesting souls," she mused aloud. "Did they say why?"

Everyone shook their heads or responded in the negative.

Hamund spoke again. "All we know is that they were taking them to Winterhold."

"Ragnvald seems to be the High Priest," Petra said. "He's scary. There's a strange look in his eyes, and all the other priests were afraid of him."

"What kind of strange look?" Alorra asked.

"It's hard to describe," Petra said soberly. "All I know is when he looked at me, it felt like he was reading my mind. I didn't want to try anything when he was around." The others nodded.

There was nothing more she could learn here. Alorra urged the young men and women to head home as quickly as possible. Muiri kissed her hand repeatedly and called down the blessings of the gods upon her. Hamund clasped Argis' hand and thanked him for what he'd done. In twos and threes and in small groups, the remaining prisoners left the caverns to return to their homes. Only Petra remained behind.

"So, what happens now?" she asked Alorra.

Alorra hid a private smile. She could sense that Petra was looking for an invitation to join her.

"Well, now you can go home, if you like. Argis and I have to go to Winterhold."

"Winterhold, eh?" Petra mused. "Have you ever been to Winterhold, either of you?"

Alorra shook her head. "No, I haven't. Have you, Argis?"

He frowned. "Like I said before, there's nothing there worth going for."

Petra gave a sly smile. "That may not be entirely true. I've heard there are still barrows to plunder."

"I'm not looking to plunder barrows," Alorra pointed out. "I have to find out what Ragnvald is doing with the soul gems he's been collecting. And I need to find out how Melek Taus fits into all this."

"I'm pretty good at dual-wielding daggers," Petra offered. "And I'm _really_ good at getting into places other people want to keep me _out_ of."

"Like this cage, here?" Argis asked, innocently, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Petra threw him a dirty look.

"That was different," she scowled, rising to his bait. "They got the drop on me with their magic!"

"Seems to me if it happened before it could happen again," he drawled. "I dunno, Bright Eyes," he said artlessly. "What do you think? Can we afford to have someone this careless traveling with us?"

"Look," Petra said earnestly. "I want to get this Ragnvald as much as you do. I owe this guy payback for what he did to me—to all of us. If he's killing young people and taking their souls, and you're going to try to stop him, then I want to help." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Please?" she pleaded. "Let me go with you?"

The look in Petra's clear blue eyes was so sincere that Alorra didn't need time to think. She saw Argis nod and wink from behind Petra's back.

"Of course you can come," she said. "But you'll have to learn to follow orders, understood?"

Petra nodded eagerly. "Absolutely, Boss-Lady!" she agreed. "Let me scrounge around here before we leave. I'm sure I can find some stuff we can use!"

"I'll keep an eye on her Bright Eyes, don't worry," Argis chuckled as he followed after the pretty blonde thief.

Alorra sighed. Wasn't _anyone _around here going to call her by her name?


	7. Chapter 6

Deus Occidere

Chapter 6

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Petra proved to be as good as her word. The young woman was very resourceful, and managed to find many useful items locked behind an iron gate in a small chamber. The chamber was at the end of a narrow passage the young thief found behind the crudely carved wooden mask. Alorra didn't even want to touch it; it gave her the willies.

In the chamber was a locked chest which Petra managed to open after a half dozen attempts. Inside, they found a large amount of gold and gems, three slim journals, which Alorra took, and an ebony greatsword which even Argis gasped over. "You'd better take that," Alorra told him.

"You'll get no argument from me," he grinned, running his hand almost reverently over the hilt.

Petra also found leather armor and a set of daggers which she claimed were hers. Alorra recognized Guild armor when she saw it and didn't question the girl, allowing her to take them.

"We still need to get you something better than that flimsy dress," Argis insisted.

"What about this?" Petra asked, pulling out a blue robe bordered with tan suede. Alorra could feel the magic emanating from it. It wasn't very strong, but it was better than she had at the moment, which was nothing.

"This will do for a start," she said. "I'm certainly not going to wear _their_ robes, even if they _are_ able to give me some magical protection. I could take one to disenchant, though; I might be able to make my own, then." She rolled one up and shoved it into her backpack.

"You know how to craft armor?" Petra asked, impressed. Alorra shook her head.

"No, but I could enchant something, _if _I knew the enchantment, had something to put it on and had some filled soul gems."

"You've got filled soul gems, though," the other girl said, pointing to the ones they'd set on the table next to the chest.

Alorra's face grew grim. "These were once your fellow prisoners," she said quietly. "I won't use them that way."

Petra went still. "Oh, yeah, right," she replied, abashed. "I forgot. Sorry, Boss-Lady."

"What are you doing to do with them, then?" Argis asked.

"Release them," Alorra said firmly.

"How?"

"Here's how," she said. _Please help me with this,_ she prayed. Once more she called upon her Superior for assistance. She knew a soul could be put into the gems by a _Soul Trap_ spell; what she needed was—for lack of a better term—a _Soul Release_.

She spread the filled gems they had collected on the ground as she prayed for help. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then gradually, the larger gems began to glow, dimly at first, then brighter, in shades of blue, white, teal, and purple. Streams of light coalesced above them into human-like forms, taking the ghostly shapes of the people they had been in life.

_"Free! I'm free!"_ the Souls whispered as they floated upwards, through the cavern roof, and disappeared. In a few moments, it was over. The gems that had contained them crumbled to ash and dust.

"Wow!" Argis breathed.

"That was—beautiful!" Petra agreed, her eyes glimmering. Alorra slumped, drained. Argis was at her side immediately.

"You okay, Bright Eyes?" he asked, helping her to her feet and supporting her.

She smiled up at him. "I will be, thank you. That took a lot out of me, but it was worth it!"

Petra gathered up the gems that hadn't disintegrated. "Why didn't these souls get released?" she asked, handing them back to Alorra.

"I suspect because they're animal souls," Alorra said, returning them to her backpack. "These are mostly petty and lesser sized gems. I only wanted to release the prisoners' souls."

There was a look of wonder in Petra's eyes. "You're a lot more than you pretend to be, aren't you, Boss-Lady?" she asked Alorra. Argis chuckled.

"You have no idea, Pipsqueak," he grinned. "Come on. You two ladies get changed, and then let's get out of here." He left the chamber to wait for them at the entrance.

As they emerged from the cave they could see it was getting to be late afternoon. They wouldn't be able to travel too much farther today before they would have to stop for the night.

"If we put a good foot under us, we might be able to make it to Ivarstead in a couple of hours," Petra said.

"That's the direction we need to go, isn't it?" Argis agreed. "What do you think, Bright Eyes?"

"Sounds good to me," Alorra said decisively. "Let's go."

She really wanted to read through the two journals, but it would have to wait until they stopped for the night, whether that was Ivarstead or a camp of their own making.

Petra scouted ahead, coming back periodically to report anything she'd seen. They managed to avoid some cave bears that way, for which Alorra was grateful. She was tired; releasing that many souls had drained her in an alarming way and she needed to rest. She said nothing to the others, however, and kept herself moving to keep up with Argis' long strides.

_I never had to worry about eating or sleeping in the game,_ she thought wryly. That was part of the fantasy; as the player character she'd _been_ the Dragonborn, and one would have thought that character was super-human, never having to worry about the more mundane side of life. There wasn't even a bathroom, outhouse or chamber pot in the entire game; yet bodily functions were still working perfectly well here, as she was forced to acknowledge on several occasions.

It was perhaps an hour after sunset when they plodded into Ivarstead. All Alorra wanted to do was drag herself into a bed and sleep for a week, but she forced herself to remain alert enough to pay for a large room for the three of them, and to sit through a meal of venison stew served up by Eilert, the innkeeper.

As they ate, Argis questioned the man about any 'unusual happenings' in the area.

"We've had some young people disappearing over the last month or so," Eilert admitted. "No one seems to know what's happened to them."

This was old news, then, Alorra felt. Soon the young people would return and there would be something much happier for the residents to talk about. After their meal they retired to their room.

"You two ladies take the beds," Argis insisted. "I'll be fine on the chair tonight."

"I don't think so, Big Guy," Petra disagreed. "I'm a lot younger than you, and I'm used to roughing it. I'll take the chair."

"What makes you think I'm not used to roughing it, Pipsqueak?" he rumbled dangerously. "I'm not exactly a Greybeard, you know!"

"Enough, you two, please!" Alorra said, raising her voice. "All this nobility is making me ill! Petra, this bed here is wide enough for both of us to share. Argis, you take the other. Now both of you settle in and get some sleep."

"You too," Argis insisted. "You're just as tired as we are."

"I need to read these journals first," Alorra said, shaking her head. "I'm hoping they'll tell me where in Winterhold we have to go, or we could waste too much time floundering around in the dark."

"Can't it wait until the morning?" Argis asked, concerned. She was pushing herself too hard, he knew. He hadn't said anything, but for the last mile before they'd reached Ivarstead, he'd wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. The only thing that had stopped him was knowing the argument she would have given him over it.

"It could, but I want to start out as soon as it's daylight," Alorra insisted. "Get some sleep, Argis," she continued. "I'll be fine." She sat at the table and opened one of the journals. Argis frowned, but settled down on the smaller of the two beds. Petra had already flung herself down on the other and her breathing was becoming softer and more even.

Argis remained awake for a long while, in spite of his fatigue, watching the red-haired girl reading by candlelight. More and more he was aware of how important she was becoming to him. He hadn't felt this way about a woman in a long time, and he wasn't sure it was right or proper to start having tender feelings about the woman who was, to all intents and purposes, his employer. Yes, he teased and bantered with her, because she gave as good as she got. He was finding out, the more time he spent with Alorra, just how easy it was to talk to her. She seemed to have a keen insight into the emotions people were experiencing, and she knew almost by instinct the right way to approach them. He'd seen her interact with children and with the Jarl, with merchants and mercenaries, with stubborn people and those paralyzed with fear. He'd seen how she had worked her way into joining the caravan when he'd first met her, and how she had taken charge of the situation in Whiterun.

Yes, there was a lot to admire about Alorra, he realized. She seemed almost unaware of how attractive that made her. He'd never seen eyes that green before, and her long red hair, which she usually kept tied back by a piece of leather, made his fingers itch to run through it. The green dress she'd worn until recently, which she'd purchased from Giaccomo, had clung to her curves in a manner that was very—distracting. He preferred that one to the blue robes she was wearing now; right now she looked like a scholar. The green dress made her look like a very desirable woman.

He firmly clamped down on that kind of thinking. He had appointed himself her bodyguard, and he had a job to do. Even if that meant he had to protect her from himself.

_The word has come down to us at last! We are to harvest souls for the glory of Melek Taus. Ragnvald did not say for what purpose they would be needed. Only that they must be from young men and women. We are to raid villages and haunt the roadways if we must, but Ragnvald must have the souls._

_ 0 0 0 0_

_ Ragnvald visited yesterday. He is not pleased at our progress. "You are too slow," he criticized._

_ We explained that we can only harvest on nights when there are no moons, and this only happens one night a week._

_ "Build another altar," he said, in that deathly calm voice of his. I swear, when he looks at me, I fear he might draw out my own soul! I serve the great lord Melek Taus, but I wish to do it while I am alive!_

_ 0 0 0 0_

_ A thousand souls! How can we gather a thousand? Already the locals are suspicious of the disappearances. I tried to explain this to Ragnvald, but he wouldn't listen._

_ "They are progressing very well at Fellglow and at Morvunskar," he sneered. "Perhaps you are not capable of fulfilling your duties. Perhaps I need someone more…reliable."_

_ I hastened to assure him we would do everything we could with our limited resources to meet our quota. But it isn't fair to compare our operations here with Fellglow and Morvunskar. They have actual fortifications at their disposal. We have a cave._

_ 0 0 0 0_

_ Ragnvald came today to gather the soul gems we've harvested. He was in a foul mood. "Our nemesis has sent an Agent," he snarled at me, as if it were my fault. "Watch for a tall, red-haired girl with green eyes. She calls herself 'Alorra'. She will attempt to interfere. Kill her," he ordered us._

_ I couldn't help but realize that 'Alorra' in the ancient Nordic tongue means 'gift of the gods'. I don't know if Ragnvald knows that, and it didn't seem like the time to bring it up. I assured him we'd take care of her if she showed up here. How much trouble could one mere girl be, after all?_

Alorra closed the last journal and sat for a long moment staring at the candle flame. She wasn't surprised now that the Enemy would have alerted his minions. Forewarned is forearmed, after all. She should have expected it. It just made things a bit more difficult, especially now that they had taken out this band of zealots. Once word of that got back to Ragnvald, he would be on high alert.

She blew out the candle and eased into the bed next to Petra, who was snoring softly. Her mind was still moving along at a rapid pace. Going to Winterhold right now would be pointless. She didn't know where in the Hold they should start. But apparently there were operations similar to the one she and her companions had disrupted in two other locations. She feared there might be more than that. Skyrim was a big place, she was finding out.

Her memory of those locations in the game was sketchy. Fellglow Keep was a name she remembered, but not where it was situated, and she couldn't remember Morvunskar at all. She would have to ask Argis and Petra in the morning. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

"Fellglow Keep?" Argis repeated as they left the Vilemyr Inn. "That's in Whiterun, up along the northern reaches where it joins the Pale."

"And Morvunskar is in Eastmarch," Petra added. "Just west of Windhelm, by the river. It's a huge old fort sitting on top of a hill."

Now she remembered! Fellglow Keep had been part of a quest to find some missing books, and Morvunskar had been a location for obtaining the Sanguine Rose conjuring staff.

"It looks like they're harvesting souls in those locations, too," Alorra said.

"Where do you want to go first?" Argis asked.

"Fellglow," Alorra said firmly. "If we can stop them there, we can hopefully get to Morvunskar before word reaches them. And maybe we'll find out where all these soul gems are being taken."

"Let's go!" exclaimed Petra. "I'm ready!" She unsheathed her two long daggers, twirled them through her fingers and resheathed them. Argis snorted.

"Show-off," he growled. She winked at him. Alorra rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long trip.

After some debate over which direction to travel, Argis convinced Alorra and Petra to return to Whiterun.

"We're getting short on supplies," he pointed out, "and we've picked up a few things we could sell off. We don't have to lug everything we find with us, you know." Here he looked pointedly at Petra, whose backpack bulged with loot from the necromancers' cave.

"Hey, it was just lying there," she protested. "It wasn't going to do anyone any good lost in that cave. I'm just keeping it in circulation."

"And lining your pockets in the bargain," Argis teased.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Petra sniffed. "Maybe we can get some armor for the Boss-Lady to wear."

"Not a bad idea," Argis mused.

"I think not," Alorra smiled as they walked. "I'm not used to wearing armor. It would hinder me more than help."

"Well how are you going to protect yourself?" Petra argued. "Spells are fine if you can go in somewhere prepared. What if you get caught off-guard?"

"That's what I have the two of you for," the red-haired girl grinned. "But Argis is right. We do need more food, and I think we should get some heftier arrows for that bow of yours. The steel arrows are fine, but it took too many to kill that bear back there."

"You're right about that," he agreed soberly. "Some heavier arrows would be nice, and a better bow, too. I've had this one so long I've worn a dent in the grip."

"I think we may need to purchase horses, too," Alorra said carefully. "Walking takes too long. I don't know how much time we can afford to waste trying to get from Point A to Point B."

"I thought we were going to Fellglow Keep?" Petra asked puzzled.

"It's a figure of speech," Alorra told her.

"Oh," the young thief said.

"I know horses," Argis said. "They'll be expensive, and we'll have to have tack and grain for them. That will be an additional expense."

"I still want to look into it," Alorra insisted. "We picked up a lot of gold in the necromancers' cave, as well as the other weapons and armor you two aren't using. If we sell off everything we don't need, we might have enough. Maybe we can get a better deal if we tell them we need three rather than just one."

Argis smiled. "Let me do the negotiating, then," he grinned. "I'll get us a good deal."

Lennart, stable master of Whiterun, was delighted to see them again.

"Things have really picked up around here," he smiled. "They're all saying in town that it's because of you, my lady!"

"Please," she insisted. "It's just 'Alorra'. I'm not a high-born lady."

"What can I do for you, then…uh…Alorra?" he stammered.

"I'll handle this," Argis intervened. "Why don't you two go on in and see if you can take care of our other 'business'."

"But we don't have—" she began, but Argis cut her off.

"I said I'd handle it," he insisted, waving her off.

Alorra compressed her lips. She knew that unless they sold some of their goods they wouldn't have enough gold to pay for three horses and all the equipment and feed they would need. She didn't want Argis paying for it out of his own pocket, assuming he had enough on him to do it, but the man had a determined look in his eyes that made her back down. She had no wish to humiliate him in front of the stable master.

"Alright," she acquiesced. "Petra and I will catch up with you later. Come along, dear," she said to the blonde thief.

As the two women approached the main gates of Whiterun, Alorra saw leather tents pitched just outside.

"Khajiit!" she exclaimed delightedly. "I was hoping to get a chance to talk with them!"

"You're in a very small minority, then," Petra drawled. "A lot of people don't trust them."

"Do you?" Alorra inquired, watching the younger girl carefully.

"Sure, as far as anyone can, I guess," Petra replied, and Alorra relaxed. She was hoping there wouldn't be any confrontations. "But if you want to do business with them, you'd better let me handle it. I know how to haggle with them." This was even better news!

"Excellent!" Alorra approved. "Soften them up if you can with some trading, and then I need to ask them some questions."

"You got it, Boss-Lady!" Petra winked.

Watching the little thief negotiate now, Alorra almost felt sorry for R'ezhyk, the Khajiit leader. While the black and white feline was perfectly adept at haggling, Petra was in a class by herself. She finally bargained the Khajiit down to practically his last septim in an effort to trade as much of their plunder as possible.

While Petra was busy with R'ezhyk, Alorra wandered through the rest of the camp. One of the Khajiit was sitting in front of a tent wrapped in a woolen blanket.

"I'm sure you must find the climate here very cold," Alorra said sympathetically.

"It is not the cold one feels," the Khajiit woman told her. "M'kesh is sad; her cub is very sick." She opened the blanket to reveal a tiny kitten weakly suckling at her mother's breast.

"Ohhhh!" Alorra breathed, crouching down on her knees. "She's _beautiful!_" The tiny baby was striped in brown and black, with patches of creamy-colored fur under her chin and on her chest. Her tiny black paws were tipped with bright white. She was about the size of a newborn human baby.

"M'kesh is grateful for your kind words," said the mother sadly. "But one feels this little one may not live to see the next moons' rising.

"What's wrong?" Alorra asked, heartstricken.

"She does not feed well," the mother said. "M'kesh does not know why. Our remedies have had no effect."

_No!_ Alorra thought, desperately. _I'm not going to let this happen!_ "May I?" she asked, holding out her hands.

The Khajiit mother hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make up her mind. She carefully handed her baby over to Alorra.

"What's her name?" the red-haired girl asked.

"R'inaya," the mother replied. "It means 'Summer Hope' in the language of M'kesh's people."

Tiny little R'inaya didn't even seem to notice who held her now. Little whimpers left the furry pink lips, and Alorra felt tears sting her eyes. Forcing herself to focus, she closed her eyes to look deeper into the baby Khajiit, seeking what was wrong. In a moment she found it: a blockage of the intestinal tract. No wonder the baby wasn't eating! She was too full, but nothing was passing through.

Channeling her energy as delicately as she could, Alorra traced a finger on the baby's distended tummy, following the path of the tiny organs, and released the magic with a whispered, _"Heal." _The blockage gently dissolved and began to move more normally through the kitten's digestive tract. Alorra kept the energy going until she was sure the problem was permanently taken care of. The tiny bundle of fur released a huge purr, as well as a _poof_ of foul-smelling air from her tail.

"What have you done?" M'kesh demanded. She reached for her baby, which Alorra surrendered back to her. Little R'inaya opened her still-blue eyes and mewed at her mother. M'kesh gasped, then hugged her baby close.

"You have made her well again!" she cried as the baby Khajiit latched onto her mother's breast and began suckling voraciously. "Why have you done this?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Alorra smiled, her eyes glistening. "She'll be fine, now, I think."

"M'kesh is more grateful than can be expressed," M'kesh said humbly. "If there is anything this one can do, she wishes for you to name it."

"Well," Alorra said, clearing her throat of the lump that had lodged there. "All I really need is information. I'm trying to find out about a man named Ragnvald, and whether there are any places where young people about my age might have gone missing." _Well, more or less the age I appear to be, _she thought.

"M'kesh does not know," the Khajiit told her with regret. "This one has been so worried for her baby that she has not paid attention to the world around her. Speak with R'ezhyk, this one's mate. He might know."

By this time, Petra was returning with a much lighter backpack and a much heavier belt pouch. Behind her, R'ezhyk gave a startled look at his mate and child and hurried over.

"She feeds?" he exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement.

"The red-haired one has healed her, R'ezhyk," M'kesh said, almost purring. "R'inaya will live!"

The Khajiit leader turned and clasped Alorra's hands in his both of his. "R'ezhyk is most grateful for your help, Healer," he said humbly. "R'inaya is his first-born. R'ezhyk will name you 'friend of the Khajiit'. He will tell all his people. You will receive the best prices, as R'ezhyk would give to his family."

"Are those prices good for what I just sold you?" Petra asked, but Alorra gave her a sharp elbow to the rib-cage. "Oof! Ow!"

"That's very generous of you, R'ezhyk," Alorra thanked him. "I was wondering if you could give me some information?"

"If R'ezhyk knows anything to help the Healer, he will say it," the Khajiit leader promised. "Ask away."

"I would like to know if you've heard the name Ragnvald, or perhaps Melek Taus?" Alorra asked. "And I would also like to know if you've heard of young people going missing around Skyrim."

"Hmm…" the feline mused. "These names do not sound familiar to R'ezhyk," he said at last. Alorra's heart sank. She didn't think he had, but she _had_ hoped. "This other matter," the Khajiit continued, "seems familiar to R'ezhyk. It may be one of our people has mentioned it. This one will ask the other caravans for you," he promised. "We will be here again in a fortnight, and then perhaps, if you are here, we will have some information for you. It is all R'ezhyk can promise."

"That's all I ask," Alorra said gratefully. "Thank you, R'ezhyk. Good-bye. Good-bye, M'kesh!"

The Khajiit waved and bowed as she and Petra made their way up to the gates of Whiterun.

"You didn't have to hit so hard," grumbled Petra, rubbing her ribs.

"There's a time and a place for everything," Alorra chided her. "That was neither."

They sold off the rest of the unneeded weapons, armor and miscellaneous goods at the smithy, which still bore the name _Warmaiden's_, at _The Drunken Huntsman_ and at Florian's general store. Petra flirted outrageously with the smarmy Breton, and Alorra thought her eyes would get stuck in a permanent eyeroll.

"How in the world can you talk like that to him?" she asked the pretty blonde thief as they left.

"All men like to be flattered," Petra shrugged. "Besides, he's got lots of good stuff in there."

Alorra stopped in the middle of the street. "Petra!" she exclaimed in horror. "You didn't—you know—" She made a pinching motion with her hand.

"Boss-Lady!" Petra looked insulted. "I would never do that with you around!"

That left a lot of open area. She knew the girl was a thief, but hoped she might change her ways. "I can't afford to have you thrown in jail, understand?" she said sternly. "No five-fingered discounts when we're in town, got that?"

Petra nodded. "Okay, okay," she promised. "I thought about going back later—"

"NO!" Alorra said angrily. "If you're going to travel with me, that's something I'm going to have to insist upon!"

"I said okay!" Petra said defensively. They walked in silence back to Breezehome.

As Alorra opened the door, Petra commented, "'Five-fingered discount', eh? That's a good one! I'll have to remember that!"


	8. Chapter 7

Deus Occidere

Chapter 7

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Argis returned to Breezehome about an hour later. Alorra had just returned herself, having purchased some ingredients from Nimue before she closed her shop.

"It's all settled," he told the two women in a satisfied tone. "We can leave in the morning if you'd like. Lennart will have three horses saddled and waiting for us."

"How much?" Alorra asked warily. Argis named a sum that nearly made her head spin. "Yikes," she muttered.

"What's the matter?" Petra asked. "We've got that much, don't we?"

"Yeah, but we'll be eating macaroni and cheese for the next few weeks," Alorra muttered. At their confused looks she shook her head and smiled. "Never mind. We'll manage."

"You're sure you want to do this, Bright Eyes?" Argis asked. "Go up against a fortress filled with necromancers?"

"I have to, Argis, you know that," Alorra said firmly. "Besides, weren't you the one who suggested I take the fight to the Enemy?"

"I didn't mean literally," he drawled.

Alorra grinned. "It's too late to back out now. It's still the best strategy."

Argis ran a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. "Then I guess we'd better get the other things we need in the morning before we leave."

"What about the stuff in the cellar?" Petra asked.

Alorra looked at the girl blankly. "Breezehome doesn't have a cellar," she said.

"Then where does the trap door lead?" the little blonde thief asked.

Alorra looked back at Argis, who shrugged. "I never saw a trap door anywhere when we were cleaning up in here."

Petra gave an exasperated sigh and walked over to the barrels and crates under the stairs. She reached back behind the stack and pushed something on the wall. With a grating sound of stone on stone, the entire floor slid towards the dining room cupboard, blocking the doorway into the alchemy lab. A dark hole was revealed, with a stairway leading down.

_That was never in the game!_ Alorra thought in surprise.

"Have you already been down here?" she asked Petra.

"Of course," the girl replied, "when you were at the _Cauldron._ There's all kinds of stuff down there!"

Alorra tentatively descended, firing off her _Candlelight_ spell as she went. Argis followed her, and Petra brought up the rear. It was a small room, lined with stone, no more than ten feet square.

The first thing she noticed was an enchanter's table, with a basket of soul gems sitting nearby. The second thing that caught her eye was the mannequin, dressed in armor.

"Wow!" Argis breathed. "Is that _dragonscale?"_ He walked over to it, touching it almost in reverence.

"It certainly looks like it," Alorra said.

"Who left all this stuff here anyway?" Petra asked.

Alorra knew there could be only one answer. "The Last Dragonborn," she said simply.

Petra gaped. "You mean the one from the stories?"

The older girl nodded. "The same." She opened a chest and found it filled with gold, jewelry, and gems of every kind. At least she wouldn't need to worry about having enough to live on, for a while, anyway.

"Do we take these things?" Argis asked. There was a hopeful note in his voice he couldn't quite conceal.

"I think we're supposed to," Alorra said. "We couldn't have found this room if we weren't meant to." _Thank you, again,_ she mentally sent out to her Superior.

The room was small and didn't contain very much beyond what they'd already seen. Petra snatched up a bow of elven make when Argis claimed the one of ebony. "It matches my sword," he grinned at Petra when she protested. "I'll take the armor as well."

"You're welcome to that, Big Guy," Petra said as Argis headed back up the stairs. "I'll stick to my leather gear, thank you." She turned to Alorra. "I still don't see anything you can wear," she frowned. "I thought the Dragonborn was Arch-Mage as well?"

"He might well have been," Alorra conceded. "But apparently the robes weren't left here. This was only one of the houses he supposedly owned, after all." _I wonder who owns the others now?_

"Did you look in the other chest over there?" Petra asked. "The long one against the far wall?"

"No, it's locked," Alorra smiled. "Maybe you could—?"

"I'm on it!" the younger girl grinned, and took out her lockpicks. After several attempts, and several broken picks, she finally managed to get it open. "Wow, that one was hard! It must have been a master lock!"

"You did well," Alorra praised. "Maybe it won't be so hard next time. Let's see what this contains." She opened the lid.

The chest was empty except for a long staff topped with a grimacing, three-sided face.

"Ugh!" Petra exclaimed. "What _is _that ugly thing?"

Alorra almost choked. It couldn't be! Yet it most certainly was!

"This is the Wabbajack," she told the blonde thief.

"Wabba-_what?_" Petra frowned.

"A Daedric artifact," Alorra explained. "It's a staff given to the Last Dragonborn by the Daedric Prince Sheogorath, prince of madness. Using this staff produces highly unpredictable results."

"Like what?" Petra asked, a sly gleam in her eye.

"Forget about it," Alorra warned her. "Most of its effects are dangerous. I can understand now why the Dragonborn left it here locked in a master-locked chest."

"Are you going to leave it behind?" Petra asked as innocently as she could. She didn't fool Alorra.

"No, I'm taking it with me," she decided. "I won't use it unless I have no other choice, but I won't leave it here so you can smuggle it out behind my back."

Petra looked affronted and guilty at the same time. "Would I do that?"

"Well," Alorra gave her a keen look. "Wouldn't you?" The younger girl had the grace to look shamefaced.

"Okay, I suppose you're right, I would," she admitted. "But can I try it, just once?" she pleaded.

"Let's wait and see what we get ourselves into, okay?" Alorra said. She knew forbidden fruit was the sweetest; if she had categorically refused to let Petra use the Wabbajack, the younger girl might have tried to sneak a chance later. Alorra removed the Wabbajack and closed the chest, disappointed. She had hoped there might be something she could wear to protect herself. The blue robes she currently wore only gave her a slight boost to her magicka reserves, but did nothing to prevent her from taking damage. And she desperately wanted something along those lines.

Petra climbed back up the stairs, eager to try her new bow before the sun set completely outside. Alorra found a lantern and lit it before her _Candlelight_ winked out.

The arcane enchanter caught her eye and drew her near. Evidently, the Last Dragonborn didn't like traipsing all the way up the hill to Dragonsreach to enchant things when he was in Whiterun. That was probably why the cellar had been built. The Breezehome in the game had no such room.

She studied the table. It looked like the others she'd seen in the game, with the ball of crystal centered at the back between two rows of unlit candles, and above a skull of some undefinable creature. The top of the table was inlaid with the runes signifying the different schools of magic. Unable to resist, she leaned over it and placed her hands on the runed tabletop.

The candles flared into life. The crystal ball swirled with fog. The runes on the tabletop glowed.

Suddenly Alorra felt her mind flood with _all _the possible enchantments: fortification and resistance, damage and absorption, repelling and special effects. The knowledge penetrated her, whirling around in her mind in a confusing maelstrom of arcana. She felt dizzy; she wanted to take her hands off the table, but couldn't. Something held her in place, holding her there until every last enchantment had been absorbed into her. Her vision darkened and she passed out.

She heard the voices first.

"Is she going to be okay?" It was Petra.

"I think so," said a male voice. Argis. "I think she's coming around now."

Alorra made a supreme effort and dragged her eyes open. Her two companions were hovering over her. She was lying on the cold stone floor of the cellar. She struggled to sit up, and Argis assisted her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his golden eyes filled with concern. "When you didn't come back upstairs Petra went down to find out what kept you. She found you on the floor. What happened?"

"I leveled up," Alorra said groggily.

"Huh?" her two companions said together.

Alorra chuckled weakly and staggered to her feet. "It's okay," she told them. "I'll be alright. I don't know what the Dragonborn did to his arcane enchanter, but it packed a whollop!"

Argis eyed the table suspiciously. "Should we get rid of it?" he asked.

"No," Alorra assured him. "I don't think it's going to happen again. I think it was meant for me."

"I'm confused," Petra complained. "What was meant for you?"

"The table imparted the knowledge of enchanting items to me," Alorra said. "_All_ the different kinds of enchantments, and all at once. I don't think it's supposed to do that. In any case, I was overwhelmed and passed out."

"You think the Last Dragonborn set a trap?" Argis asked.

"No," Alorra shook her head. "I think my Boss had something to do with it."

"Wait," Petra said, "_your_ Boss? You work for someone else?"

Alorra sighed. "Yes, dear, _my_ Boss. Come on upstairs, and I'll explain."

Petra seemed a bit more open-minded than Argis had. Perhaps it was because she'd already had experience with the minions of Melek Taus.

"So…Ragnvald works for this Melek Taus, the goat guy," she said, working it out, "and you work for—what did you call him again?"

"I supposed you could call my Boss the Creator," Alorra said. "It's how I've always thought of my Superior. But I don't know if you could confine the description to male or female. The Creator has aspects of both. Usually, when I've had my conversations with my Boss, it's been between lives, in a place where there is no physical form, only energy. That's what souls are, really. Pure energy."

Petra thought about that for a long moment. "So this Melek Taus wants the souls to use their energy," she said slowly.

"What?" Alorra said, startled.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" the little blonde thief said. "That's why he instructed Ragnvald to tell those necromancers to harvest a thousand souls. And if there are more of these guys at Fellglow and Morvunskar, and they've been told to collect a thousand each, then it seems like Melek Taus needs this energy for something big!"

Alorra blinked at the younger girl. _Of course!_ "Petra, you are an absolute genius!" she whooped, throwing her arms around the girl and hugging her.

Argis looked troubled. "What would he need that many souls for?" he frowned. His question sobered both girls immediately.

Alorra had a sinking feeling she knew. "To bring himself here," she said, pensively. "It's really the only explanation that fits."

"And we don't know how many souls he needs to do that, do we?" Petra asked. Both Argis and Alorra shook their heads. "And we don't know where the soul gems are being taken, either, do we?" Again, her friends shook their heads. Petra blew out a heavy sigh. "We've got our work cut out for us, don't we?"

To that, Argis and Alorra could only nod.

Alorra had worked well into the night, despite the urgings of Petra and Argis to get some rest. Her newly acquired skills helped her to lay enchantments on several things, including the green dress and her boots, Petra's bow and several smaller amulets, circlets and rings she found in the chest. Most of the jewelry wouldn't be needed immediately, but she put them in her alchemist's pouch for later. She kept out an amulet to resist shock for herself.

_I'm not going through THAT again!_ she thought to herself, putting it around her neck.

She also discovered that her ability to sense magic in other items had been enhanced; she was now able to figure out exactly what kind of enchantment an item had upon it. The dragonscale armor that Argis now wore was imbued with a charm to recover health more quickly. The ebony bow already had a _Soul Trap_ enchantment, and Alorra asked Argis to carry the empty gems they'd picked up.

"I'm surprised at you, Bright Eyes," he said, quirking a smile. "I would have thought that sort of thing was distasteful to you."

"These are our enemies, Argis," she told him seriously. "I have no qualms treating them the way they're treating others." There was nothing he could add to that, and he accepted the empty gems.

Petra's new elven bow had nothing imbued into it, and she asked for something to help her hit better. "I'm not so good at long distances," she admitted. "I'm better at sneaking in and getting up close; usually from behind."

"I'm glad you're on our side," Alorra grinned, and gave the bow a fortification enhancement for archery.

They set off for Fellglow Keep later than Alorra would have liked, but she really had no one else to blame. After making the enchanted items she had tumbled into bed next to Petra and had slept soundly until the sun was already well along in the sky. By tacit consent and mutual understanding, neither Argis nor Petra disturbed her to wake her up at a more reasonable hour.

The first part of the journey was the most difficult for Alorra. It had been a long time since her soul had been in a body that knew how to ride a horse. This one apparently didn't. Argis and Petra seemed born to it and looked very comfortable in their saddles. Alorra knew she would be sore in the morning, but refused to say anything to the others and made every effort to stay in her saddle and keep up.

As they rode along, Alorra couldn't keep her eyes off Argis' back. The word she felt best described him would have been "badass". The dragonscale armor fit as though it had been made for him, and he proclaimed it to be very comfortable.

"It's lighter than I'm used to," he admitted, "but it's very flexible. We'll see how it holds up in combat, but I'm confident it'll do well. These scales once protected a dragon, after all."

"Were there really dragons in Skyrim, Big Guy?" Petra asked.

"Sure were, Pipsqueak," he rumbled. "Don't you remember your history?"

"Not really," Petra shrugged. "My Ma and Pa didn't really teach me a whole lot, other than what to plant and when to plant it."

"Farmers?" Argis asked.

"Yeah," Petra sighed. "That wasn't what I wanted from life, though, so I left home a couple years ago. I never even told them I was leaving."

"That wasn't very nice of you," he frowned. "They're probably worried sick about you."

"They're probably relieved not to have another mouth to feed," Petra contradicted. "There were fourteen of us."

This surprised the big Nord. "Fourteen? Wow! That's a lot of kids!"

Petra nodded. "I don't think I ever saw my Ma not pregnant," she said. "For the last few years before I left, I could see her getting older and wearing out. I knew I wasn't going to let that happen to me."

"Still," Argis insisted. "She's your mother, and you should have let her know you were leaving. When this is over, you should go see her and set her mind at ease that you're alright."

Petra shrugged, but didn't say anything.

"Are there any dragons left, Argis?" Alorra called up, scanning the sky. That would be _all_ she needed!

"A few," he admitted. "But they usually keep to the high mountain passes and the Throat of the World, now," he continued. "I don't think one's been seen in the lower reaches for the last sixty or seventy years. The Last Dragonborn worked really hard to take out as many as possible before he died."

"I thought some of the dragons were going to reform," she said.

"Reform?" Argis snorted. "A dragon _reform?_ Not too likely! Even after the Dragonborn killed Alduin, there were dozens of them that wanted to take his place."

_So that much is different, too,_ she thought. When she had played the game, she'd had a choice to not kill one of the elder dragons, who in turn agreed to convince the others to turn away from violence against men and mer. Clearly, that had not happened here.

"What do you know about the Last Dragonborn?" Alorra asked.

"About the same as everyone, I guess," Argis replied. "He killed Alduin, World-Eater; he took out the Cult of Miraak, who were trying to bring back one of the ancient Dragon Priests; he destroyed the Vampire Lords of Volkihar; he saved Winterhold—before it slid into the sea—by sealing away the Eye of Magnus; and he helped to put down the Stormcloak Rebellion, killed Ulfric Stormcloak and helped to end the Civil War. What else is there to know?"

"Well, for starters, does anyone know what kind of man he was?" she asked.

Argis shrugged. "He was just a man. An Imperial, I think. I don't remember. He was able to use the Thu'ums, the Dragon Shouts, and he could use magic. That's all I know, really."

"You said your great-grandfather was his Housecarl," Alorra prompted. "Didn't any stories about his travels with the Dragonborn come down through your family?"

"Some," Argis admitted. "But while I'm proud of my ancestor and his service to the Dragonborn, none of the Bulwark's stories are as exciting as the Dragonborn's."

They rode for a while in companionable silence. Away to their right, the White River rushed through its gorge, the sound of crashing water muffled by the distance. To their left, a hill jutted toward the clear blue sky. Alorra pulled her horse to a halt. Argis stopped and turned back to her in his saddle.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Petra pulled her horse to a stop as well.

"Nothing," she assured him. "I was just wondering, isn't there a Shrine to Talos up on that hill?"

Argis shook his head. "I doubt it. The Empire was pretty thorough, getting rid of all those Shrines when they won the Civil War."

"Could we look anyway?" she asked. She couldn't say why, but she had to see for herself.

"Suit yourself," he said, indifferently. "It's on our way."

They came around to the eastern slope of the hill and left the horses with Petra. The rocky outcropping had a level place near the top, and it was here the Shrine of Talos would have been. Alorra climbed up with Argis close behind her. When she entered the clearing, she could see the flat stone plinth that had been the base, but the statue to the hero-god of Skyrim was gone. It saddened her in a way she couldn't express. Talos represented freedom of worship in the game, and while Alorra herself didn't follow him, she keenly felt a sense of loss on behalf of those in Skyrim who had. She knelt down next to the stone base. Argis stood by and watched her without speaking.

"It was wrong," she said finally, quietly. "The government shouldn't have the right to tell people who they can and can't worship."

"They do here," Argis said, just as quietly. He walked a few steps away and picked a blue mountain flower, setting it on the stone plinth. Alorra picked a purple one and laid it next to his. They quietly descended the hill and remounted their horses, continuing on towards Fellglow Keep. Petra tactfully said nothing.


	9. Chapter 8

Deus Occidere

Chapter 8

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

**(A.N.: My apologies for such a long chapter, but there was so much to say here, and I couldn't find a good place to break it up. Enjoy!)**

Fellglow Keep sprawled against the rising stony hill behind it, but Alorra could see at once that many things had changed since she had played the quest in the game. For one thing, someone had been busy rebuilding the wall around the ancient fortification. From their vantage point, hidden in a thicket of thorny bushes not far away, the three companions could see the courtyard beyond, which had been cleared of much of its debris.

The garden area near the small pond had been expanded, and the watchtower near the open archway had been fortified. The gateway itself had been shored up and fitted with an iron portcullis.

Patrolling the walls and the courtyard were no less than a score of bandits and necromancers.

"This won't be easy," Argis muttered, discouragingly. "How are we going to fight that many? There's only the three of us."

"We could pick them off with our bows," Petra suggested.

"That would alert the rest of them," Argis said, shaking his head. "Those bandits would come right out looking for us, and the mages would just start lobbing spells from a distance."

"If we split up, we could attack them from three different angles," Petra insisted, but Argis still didn't like their chances.

"What do you think, Bright Eyes?" he asked, turning to Alorra.

She considered. Argis was right; there were way too many enemies hanging around outside. Letting any of them escape to report back inside was not a good option. "We're going to need something that can take out as many of them as possible all at once," she said.

"Do you have any _Fireball_ spells you can use?" Petra asked.

Alorra shook her head. "I probably could, but the noise would attract the attention of anyone inside. I'd like to do this stealthily, if I can."

"I'm all for stealth," Petra grinned. "Would you like me to handle this?"

Alorra gave the girl a considering look. "Can you?" she asked. "Without getting yourself hurt, that is?"

Petra gave a wolfish grin. "This is what I'm trained to do," she said. "They'll never know I was there. Just sit tight and let me do what _I_ do best!"

The red-haired girl made her decision. "Alright, we'll try it," she said, firmly. "Take this with you, but _only_ use it if you have to." She gave Petra the Wabbajack. "I'm not exactly sure what it will do."

Petra's eyes gleamed.

Argis frowned. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea," he rumbled.

"Don't worry, Big Guy," the little thief said cheekily. "I'll save a couple for you!" She slipped away into the underbrush.

"Now what do we do?" Argis groused.

"We wait," Alorra said simply. She had to put her faith in Petra, and trust that the girl could do what she claimed.

Petra kept to the long grasses as much as she was able, until she reached the outer wall. Pressing herself against the stone, she worked her way around to the eastern side of the ruins, where the afternoon sun was already lengthening the shadows there.

Several times she froze, as sentries prowled the wall above her head. When they moved on, so did she. Eventually she found a place where she could climb the broken stone and get to the top of the wall. She found herself in the northeastern most corner of the Keep, overlooking the entire area. Several yards away one of the sentries leaned against a wooden support post, clearly bored with his duty.

It was the work of a moment to slip up behind him and slit his throat. Petra felt no remorse. Though she acted carefree and behaved herself around Alorra, she had been trained for this: moving silently, getting in and out unseen, and taking out any opposition in the quickest, most efficient way possible with the least amount of disturbance. She dragged the body behind some tumbled masonry and moved on without a backward glance.

Again and again, the scene repeated itself along the wall, with Petra single-handedly eliminating the enemy from their positions of surveillance. Eventually, however, the results of her handiwork were noticed. One of the necromancers came over and called up to the man she had just killed. Petra crouched behind the wall, waiting.

"What's wrong with you, you fool!" the mage said, irritated. "Answer me!"

Still receiving no reply, the man grumbled, and Petra heard him moving toward the stone steps that led to her position. Before the wizard could reach the top, Petra glided over to a pile of crates and hid behind them. The necromancer stepped out onto the walkway, looking around for the guard that should have been there. He stopped, startled, when he saw the body lying in a puddle of its own blood.

"By Melek's hand!" the man exclaimed.

"Nope," said Petra, rising up behind him. "By mine!" She shoved one dagger into his back and drew the other across his throat. The man gurgled and sank to his knees. Petra pushed him off her blade and wiped them both on the black robes.

She was running out of time, she knew. There were still too many enemies in the courtyard, and they were becoming suspicious. It was time to do something drastic. She pulled the Wabbajack off her back where she'd holstered it next to her bow.

"Alright, staff of chaos," she grinned. "Let's just see what you can do!"

Petra worked her way along the wall until she came to a vantage point where she could see the entire courtyard spread out in front of her. The bandits and necromancers below were hurrying around, searching; searching for _her,_ she knew, though they didn't know it.

She hefted the staff. _Now, how do I make you work?_ she wondered. Shrugging, she stood up and called out, "Hey, everybody! Look what I've got!" All eyes turned to her, and the men below began pointing and shouting. Petra leveled the staff in a sweeping motion and yelled, _"WABBAJACK!"_

The effect was instantaneous and impressive. Every single figure in the courtyard below dropped to the ground, motionless. Petra stared in wonder. "Wow!" she said, "that was amazing!" Drifting up from below she heard sounds of snoring. "You put them to _sleep?_" she demanded of the staff in her hand. She shrugged. "Oh well, it makes my job easier."

Petra turned to face the heath beyond the walls and waved the Wabbajack. She knew the Boss-Lady and the Big Guy would see her and come in. She jumped lightly down off the wall and set about the necessary business of eliminating the enemy before they could wake up.

Argis and Alorra left the horses tethered to some saplings near their hiding place and walked down the hill to the open gateway into Fellglow Keep. Petra was finishing up her "loose ends."

Alorra wasn't happy. "I thought you were going to take them out _quietly,_" she scowled. "Not yell so loud half of Skyrim could hear you. What happened to 'they'll never know I'm there'?"

"Well, I had to get their attention, so the Wabbajack would work," Petra explained. Argis was checking the bodies to make sure none had been missed.

"The Wabbajack did this?" Alorra said, disturbed, as she accepted it back from the young thief.

"Well, not exactly," Petra admitted, cleaning her blades before sheathing them. "It put them to sleep. I did the rest."

"I thought you said you were going to leave me a few, Pipsqueak," Argis complained.

"Sorry, Big Guy," Petra said, abashed. "I didn't know how much time I had before they might wake up."

He ruffled her hair good-naturedly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "There'll be a next time."

Alorra compressed her lips. She knew this was part of their lives, that basically this is what they did for a living, but she still didn't like killing. "Let's get moving," she said. "We need to get inside."

"The front door is right there," Petra said, pointing.

Alorra shook her head. "Not that way," she demurred. "We'd have an even bigger fight on our hands in tight quarters. Like I said, I'd rather do this stealthily."

"What's your plan?" Argis asked.

"There's a back way in," the red-haired girl replied. "We can get in through the dungeons. There's a stairway over there." She pointed to the far western side of the ruins.

"How do you know that?" the big Nord wanted to know.

"I've been here before," she smiled cryptically.

It was necessary for Petra to pick the lock on the door to the dungeon before they could get in. The girl had looted every body in the courtyard, but none of them carried a key.

Just as Alorra remembered it, they had to take a short flight of stone stairs down to a room that was flooded. Apparently this was either a common problem with this room, or the new owners just didn't care to drain it.

"Watch for bear traps," she whispered to the others before they worked their way through. A loud _SNAP_! to her right was a stark reminder to heed her own words, as her foot jostled one of the traps and set it off. Fortunately, she was not injured.

Just beyond the first chamber was a short passage that led to a room with an upper and lower level; the lower one was flooded. Petra crept forward to peek around the corner of the doorway before retreating back to report to the others.

"Looks like three brigands on the second level, with a necromancer," she breathed.

"We can handle this one, Bright Eyes," Argis murmured confidently. "Stay back here."

"I don't think so, Argis," Alorra said. "I'll hang back, but I'm not going to cower in a corner somewhere. We go in together." He gave her an admiring look before drawing his greatsword.

"Let's go, Pipsqueak!" he told Petra.

They rushed into the room, hindered by the knee-deep water and the hidden bear traps under the surface. One clamped on Argis' foot and he roared in surprise before literally shaking the trap off and continuing on. Petra danced out of the way of another, which would have crushed bone had it caught her. The bandits came down the stairs to confront them, but the necromancer remained above, shooting at them with bolts of fire.

Alorra conjured her wolf familiar and sent him after the necromancer, then sent a burst of healing energy at Argis, hoping the fetid water hadn't already infected the wound from the trap.

A yelp soon told her that Wolfie had been dispatched—rather too quickly for her peace of mind—and the necromancer turned to face her, sending a burst of fire directly at her.

_Oh sure,_ she thought through gritted teeth. _I make a pendant to protect me from shock, and now they're using fire!_ She felt her hair scorching and her skin reddened from the heat.

"Two can play at that game, you know!" she said grimly. She hadn't used any real Destruction spells on anyone since coming to Skyrim, but that was about to change. She let the energy build within her and channeled it through both her hands.

_"Lightning!"_ she cried, releasing the bolt of pure electrical energy at the man in the black robes. She knew she really didn't have to shout the name of the spell, but it _did_ give her a sense of satisfaction. The black-robed mage went rigid, and his eyes rolled back into his head. The smell of ozone filled the air. Already weakened by her familiar, the lightning bolt finished him off.

Petra and Argis had made short work of the brigands, and the three of them reached the top of the stairs.

"How's your foot?" Alorra asked, concerned, quickly downing a healing potion herself.

Argis shrugged. "It's fine, Bright Eyes," he said. "The trap never got through these boots. It hurt, but your spell took care of that."

"You said you've been here before," Petra said. "Do you know what we're up against next?"

Alorra shook her head. "I remember the general lay-out of this place," she replied. "But it's been a hundred years since the Dragonborn came through here. Things have changed."

"I'm still having a hard time with that," Petra said, confused. "Were _you_ the Dragonborn in another life?"

The red-haired girl shook her head. "No," she chuckled. "But you can pretend I was if it makes it easier for you to accept it."

"I don't think I'd like to think of you that way," Argis mused. "I'm kind of liking you just the way you are." He was glad to see she was wearing the green dress again. Alorra said nothing in reply but felt the heat rise to her cheeks yet again.

"Moving on, shall we?" she said hurriedly. She practically ran to the door in the corner and didn't see Argis and Petra exchange a grin between them.

The short corridor ahead of them led to an intersection; planted in the middle of the floor was a pressure plate. A quick glance to the right confirmed the vertical row of holes out of which poisoned darts would fly if they stepped on it.

Straight ahead was a short flight of stairs leading up to a landing that disappeared to the right. Petra motioned the others to wait while she lightly leaped over the pressure plate and went to investigate. She found a door on the left that led into a storage room of some kind with a chest in the back. It was the work of a moment to get it open and loot it. She came back with a smug smile on her face.

"Anything good?" Alorra couldn't help whispering.

"Would you like to see?" Petra returned, quietly.

"Not at the moment," the older girl murmured. "Look down there." She pointed to the left down a short flight of stairs. They saw cages filled with young people; some sitting, some lying down, others standing. All seemed to be dispirited and resigned to their fate.

"Guarded?" Argis asked, hefting the greatsword.

"Most likely," Alorra replied. "Probably just around the corner where we can't see them.

"Good," he growled with a feral grin.

They crept to the doorway and peered in.

"I don't see any guards," Petra said, moving forward, but Alorra grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her back. "Hey! What the—"

"Shhh! Look!" Alorra said, pointing.

Faintly, on the floor a short distance in, a rune glimmered and glowed, pale blue. Petra realized she would have stepped directly onto it. She gulped.

"Oops! Thanks, Boss-Lady! I didn't see that."

"I didn't think you had," Alorra said, tersely. "We'll have to watch for those. I'll set it off, but it will probably bring down some of Melek Taus' minions on us."

"We can handle them," Argis said, confidently. "Can you protect the prisoners, like you did before?"

Alorra nodded. "That will be our plan, then. Ready?"

She channeled her magic into another _Lightning Bolt_, and the rune exploded in a detonation of electricity. Quickly Petra rushed in, twin blades drawn, and took cover behind a torture rack. Argis followed and met the brigands as they rounded the corner. Alorra kept to the wall on the left and threw her _shield_ spell in front of the four packed cages. The prisoners cried out, some with encouragement, others merely in fear. With the spell extended out as far as she could make it go, it fell short of covering her. It would have to do.

From the doorway at the far end, a mage started shooting _fireballs_ into the room, heedless of his own men. The _shield_ spell protected the prisoners, but Argis and Alorra took the brunt of the flames. Just around the corner, behind the rack, Petra crouched, ready to sneak attack any that made it as far as her position, but she couldn't get a clear shot at the necromancer.

Alorra felt scorched. Her skin was advancing beyond reddening into the blistering stage. This was not good! Argis kept up a steady rhythm of slashing and hacking, but even he was hurting. The dragonscale armor gave him better protection against the flames than his steel would have done, but it wasn't fire-proof. Crackling purple-blue energy flowed from the brigands he'd cut down and worked its way into the pack on his back where the empty soul gems were kept. From somewhere beyond the doorway, more brigands were advancing into the room. The mage had switched from _fireballs_ to _firebolts_, which—while still painful—told Alorra he was running low on magicka. She had to find a way to stop him.

"Petra!" she cried, over the roar of the incendiary spells, "Argis needs help!"

"I'm pinned down here, Boss Lady!" the girl called back. "My armor won't protect me from _that!_"

Keeping part of her mind concentrating on the _shield_ spell, Alorra dug into her satchel and found what she was looking for. She pulled out an amulet and called out to the little blonde thief.

"Here!" she yelled, tossing the necklace. It fell short. _Damn!_

"I got it!" Petra cried. She quickly tumbled over to Alorra's side, picking up the amulet along the way. "What does it do?" she asked breathlessly, putting it on.

"Protects you from _that_," Alorra said, indicating the stream of fire the necromancer was leveling at Argis now. He was breathing hard now, and his blows were not as strong as they were before.

"On my way!" the younger girl said, rushing in to relieve the big Nord. "Pull back, Big Guy!" she called to Argis. "I got this!"

He gratefully withdrew a few steps to allow her to pass, watching in admiration as her twin blades became an impenetrable barrier. The last two brigands went down under her assault, and she turned to the necromancer, who was now firing _flames_ at her in short bursts, clearly low on magicka.

Petra didn't hesitate. She tossed one of her daggers in the air and caught it neatly by the point, flicking it with a fluid motion of her wrist at the mage. The long, thin, keenly-honed steel buried itself in the man's forehead, and he sunk to the floor with a groan.

Alorra breathed a sigh of relief and let her _shield_ drop. The prisoners cheered and begged to be set free. Petra searched the bodies but could find no key to open the cages. "I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, I guess," she said cheerfully, and set about picking the locks.

"Are you alright, Argis?" Alorra asked, concerned. He had taken most of the fire damage, but his armor looked unscathed. His face looked sunburned.

"A bit medium-rare, but I'm okay," he said, hissing a bit in pain. She handed him a couple of potions, which he drank without arguing, and quaffed another one herself.

The young people Petra had released clustered around the three companions, some sobbing, some angry at the treatment they'd received.

"What's going on?" they cried. "Who are these people? What do they want from us?"

"Go home," Alorra told them all. "As quickly as you can. These men are evil; we're here to try and stop them." She gave them directions to get them safely outside the ruins and wished them the best of luck.

When they had gone, Petra came over and gave Alorra several soul gems. They were common-sized and larger, and she could tell they were filled.

"I thought you'd want to take care of these," the young thief said, somberly.

Alorra sighed. "I do, but not right now. I'll wait until we're done here. I'm afraid we may find more." She put them into her satchel.

The room next to the cell block was unoccupied, the brigands having come when they heard the fighting. In the game it had been a sort of laboratory where experiments on vampires had been carried out. Here, it was set up as a barracks. Petra darted around looking for anything of value while Argis and Alorra headed to a corridor on the opposite side that led out of the chamber.

The large chamber that opened off the corridor and stairs was practically circular, with wedge-shaped cages along the right-hand side. Three levers in the center between two supporting pillars opened and closed the doors. Alorra and her companions quickly eliminated the enemies in this room and released the prisoners, again giving them guidance to leave the safest and fastest way possible.

There was a stairway in the center of the west wall, between two storage rooms which Petra scoured for anything useful. The stairway led up into the Keep proper, which Alorra wasn't prepared to fight her way through at the moment. For now, she still had some element of surprise in her favor, and she wanted to keep it as long as she could.

The three worked their way through the rest of the lower level, battling brigands and necromancers through what had once been a sort of practice range, and then into a large hall flanked by sarcophagi. The cracking of the lids startled Petra, who gave a yelp as a host of skeletons advanced towards them.

Ordinarily, skeletons might have been easy to defeat, but these were bigger and buffer than any Alorra could remember seeing. They were armored and carried better than the ancient weapons they had been buried with. Pinpoints of evil red light glowed in their sockets, and they dodged Petra's arrows with an alacrity that an acrobat would admire.

"I'll kill you again!" Argis roared, advancing on them. He swung the ebony greatsword in a wide horizontal sweep, but the two skeletons adjacent to him neatly side-stepped his attack and landed blows of their own on the big Nord, who grunted in pain.

Petra switched to her daggers and became a whirling dervish, darting in and out, spinning and dodging, trying to do any kind of damage she could, but without much effect.

"How do you kill something that's already dead?" she shouted, ducking as a bolt of ice whizzed over her head and smashed against the pillar behind her.

"Just keep smashing," Argis grunted as another ice bolt caught him in the leg.

_I've had enough of this!_ Alorra thought. She drew on her magicka and visualized every skeleton in the room running for cover, then released her energy.

Six of the dozen undead suddenly threw down their weapons and ran back toward the necromancers, who shouted in dismay.

"That helped!" Argis cheered. "Come on, Pipsqueak! Bright Eyes has just evened the odds for us a little bit."

Petra gave a tight grin as she found herself without an opponent in her face attempting to cut her down. She drew the bow again and took aim at one of the necromancers, planting an arrow in his chest. He sank to the floor and three of the skeletons disintegrated to dust. Unfortunately, they were three that had been running away.

"Nice shooting!" Argis grinned, using the flat of the ebony blade to bash a skeleton to pieces. Bits of bone flew everywhere, and the iron hauberk it had been wearing went spinning into a corner.

"I've got more where that came from, Big Guy!" the little thief bragged. _"YEEOWW!" _A bolt of ice found the blonde girl and sent her sprawling backwards, skewered through the stomach. Though it hurt like anything, Petra groggily got to her feet, the arcane bolt still piercing her, and retrieved her bow. "Owwww," she moaned. "You sonofabitch! I'll get you for that!"

Meanwhile, Alorra had been keeping up a steady flow of firebolts at the remaining skeletons. When she saw Petra get hit, however, she rushed to the girls' side.

"I'm okay, Boss-Lady," the thief winced. "It hurts, though."

"Let me heal you," Alorra insisted.

"No," Petra said, determined. "I'm gonna kill me a necromancer!"

She holstered her bow and pulled out two daggers of Elvish make.

"Where did you get those?" Alorra blinked.

"In the other room," Petra said grimly. "Time to initiate them!" She crouched and slipped into the shadows that hugged the eastern wall behind the sarcophagi. Alorra let her go and resumed her barrage of firebolts against the remaining enemies, giving Petra the cover she needed.

She managed to take out one of the two remaining necromancers, and four more skeletons crumbled to ash. Argis destroyed the last one still fighting him and together he and Alorra advanced on the lone necromancer, holding his ground at the back of the hall.

As they closed the distance between them, however, the man lost his nerve and turned to run. Before they could reach him, Petra leaped out of the shadows and sunk both elven blades into the man's back, bringing him down. Beyond him, to the right, the last three cowering skeletons fell apart, their remains no more than dust.

_From dust are ye made and to dust ye shall return,_ Alorra thought, satisfied. She looked around. A stairway led up to the left, and Alorra knew it would take them to the main floor of Fellglow Keep. She insisted they take a moment to heal up before they continued. Petra found a chest in the furthest corner on the right, hidden among the rubble. She brought back some potions and coins, which she handed over to Alorra.

A door at the top of the stairs opened into a short corridor which took an abrupt turn to the right and ascended further to a closed door. Petra carefully checked for sounds on the other sides but could hear nothing through the massive iron-clad wooden door. She opened it and they made their way into what had once been a chapel when the Keep was first built. Now it had been defiled, turned into a horrible Temple honoring Melek Taus. His image leered at them from the front of the room, above a door recessed against the back wall, which led into the rest of the Keep.

To one side was a summoning circle, surrounded by soul gems. Alorra was horrified at first, afraid they were already too late to stop something. But she soon realized the gems were nothing better than lesser and petty-sized. Human souls needed a common-size soul gem at the very least, and all these were empty. She collected them and gave them to Argis.

"Good," he grinned. "I was getting kind of low." He put them in his pack with the others.

As Petra poked around—something she seemed to do by habit, more than anything else—she found something unusual and called Alorra over. It was in a pile of rubble where the back wall of the chapel had collapsed.

"I've never seen anything like this," she said. "What is it?"

Alorra knew what it was right away. Lying among the fallen debris was a large piece of stone, intricately carved, resembling a sort of cross between a sword and a double-bladed axe. The effigy was buried point first into a wedge-shaped base.

"A Shrine to Talos!" Alorra breathed. "I'm surprised it's still here!" The statue that had once stood in the alcove behind them was long gone. Regardless, she could still feel the power remaining in the Shrine, and was surprised to find it undefiled.

"To who?" Petra asked. "Who's Talos?"

"You don't know him," Argis murmured. "The Empire wiped out Talos worship long before you or I were ever born. But I remember my Grandfather talking about it. A lot of Nords believed in him."

"Why did the Empire do that?" Petra wondered aloud.

"Because the Altmer told them to," Argis said shortly. He picked up the stone carving. It was heavy, but not overly so.

"What are you going to do with it?" Petra asked.

"Yes, Argis," Alorra said. "What _are_ you going to do with it? You know Talos worship is outlawed."

"I know," he said. "But I seem to recall somebody, not too long ago, saying the government shouldn't tell the people who they can and can't worship." He gave them both a steady look. Petra shrugged and turned to continue her exploration.

"Well?" he demanded of Alorra.

"I said nothing," she smiled. "Keep it, if it brings you comfort."

He nodded his thanks and made room in his backpack for the Shrine.

The only other thing of note in this room was the rows of benches set up in front of a blood-stained altar. The blood was not fresh, but it was a grim reminder of their enemies' foul purpose.

"Come on," Alorra said hollowly. "We're not done here yet."

The heavy door at the far end groaned on its hinges as it opened, startling three brigands sitting at a table near a fireplace. They barely had a chance to get to their feet before Alorra, Argis and Petra cut them down. To the left was a wide, curving corridor that ended in two doors, one ahead, and one to the left. Both were closed.

"Which way?" Petra asked, as quietly as she could.

Alorra thought carefully. "That door there, in the alcove, leads back downstairs," she replied. "It ends up in that circular room with the cages. We need to keep moving forward."

The little thief nodded and checked the door. Sounds of hammering could be heard coming from beyond it. She crouched, and motioned the others to do so as well, then carefully and quietly opened the door. It only creaked a little bit, but Petra still winced. _I'm gonna start carrying oil with me,_ she thought.

"Get ready for a fight," Argis growled.

A large chamber with stairs leading to an upper level on the right-hand side opened up to them. The sound of hammering grew louder, and they saw at once several brigands and mages lounging about. All eyes turned toward the three companions.

"I'm gonna tear you apart!" Argis yelled, rushing into the room.

Alorra heard a warping sound from the top of the stairs, and saw for the first time a Flame Atronach. The being of pure fire spun in mid-air, seeking a target. Finding three, it began lobbing _firebolts_ at them.

"YEOWCH!" Petra screamed, tumbling out of the way.

_It had to be fire again, didn't it?_ Alorra groused to herself. At least Petra still had the amulet. She lost track of the young thief, but it didn't matter as long as she was keeping herself safe. Alorra concentrated on the necromancers at the top of the stairs.

"Come on out, Wolfie!" she called, summoning her familiar. "Sic 'em!" she ordered the ghostly lupine. He howled and charged up the stairs towards the black-robed mages.

Pain thudded into her as an arrow found its mark in her chest. For a moment the whole room seemed to spin. The enchantments she'd put on her dress, however, began to counteract the damage at once, healing her without her having to cast a spell. She searched with her eyes and found the offender, standing in the doorway of the room directly opposite her.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Alorra decided to stretch her arcane limits. She concentrated on the archer and visualized him attacking his own companions. She released the energy and watched with satisfaction as he turned his arrows upon the other brigands. Howls of dismay came from them, and in a very short time they cut him down.

_One less to worry about,_ she thought, and directed another burst of the same energy at the bandit rushing toward her. He stopped in mid-stride, nearly tripping, but spun and attacked one of his fellow brigands who had Argis backed against a table. The two minions went at it, ending with both striking fatal blows and killing each other.

"Your handiwork?" Argis grinned. "Thanks!"

Another burst of fire surrounded them, and Argis grimaced. "We've got to take that thing out!" he gritted.

A sudden, short yelp told her that her familiar had been sent back to wherever it was he rested until summoned again. There was only one necromancer remaining: the one who had summoned the Flame Atronach. Alorra couldn't see Petra anywhere and was starting to worry.

She directed a bolt of electrical energy at the black-robed wizard, but he dodged her spell. He didn't see the small figure sneaking up behind him, and therefore never felt the blades that sliced his throat cleanly, sending the head _thunking_ down the stairs. The Atronach staggered, and Alorra yelled, "Get back, Petra!" The little thief dove for cover as the summoned daedra exploded in a huge fireball.

Silence fell, and Alorra realized she still had the arrow stuck in her. She sat down heavily on a nearby bench.

"Alorra!" Argis shouted, rushing to her side. "Are you okay?"

_He called me by my name! _"I will be…I think," she said faintly. "Take the arrow out, Argis." Petra came running up, a scared look on her face.

"Are you sure?" he asked, worried. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Petra, there's a potion in my bag, in a large red bottle."

"I'll get it," she said eagerly, slipping Alorra's backpack off the red-haired girl's shoulders and digging into it.

Argis' golden eyes looked steadily into her deep green ones. "Just let me know when you're ready," he said. He never wanted to do anything less right now. What if he caused more damage?

"Do it now," she breathed, bracing herself.

Argis nodded. "Get that potion ready, Pipsqueak," he told Petra. The little blonde thief nodded, her brow knit with worry.

In one swift motion, Argis pulled the arrow out the way it had entered. The pain was more intense than anything she could remember—even being riddled with bullets in a firing squad. After the first one, she'd never felt the others. Her death then had been nearly instantaneous. This was a lingering pain, and she vaguely realized that Petra was carefully holding the healing potion bottle to her lips. She took a weak sip and immediately felt a little bit better.

Encouraged by the younger girl, she slowly managed to drink the rest of the potion down. The blood stanched and torn tissues repaired themselves. The pain subsided and her vision cleared. Looking inward she realized the arrow had just missed puncturing a lung. Another inch or two to the left, and her heart would have been hit, ending her mission in failure.

"Thank you," she breathed, both to her friends and to her Creator.

"We should leave," Petra said, troubled. "We're getting brutalized here."

"We can't quit now," Alorra said, more confidently than she felt. Petra was right, though; their enemies were getting tougher and stronger the further along they went. But they had to shut this operation down or Melek Taus would win. That was an outcome that was unacceptable. "We've been successful so far. We have to keep going. As I recall, there isn't much left to this place. If Ragnvald is here, we have to try to stop him."

"I'm sticking with you, Bright Eyes," Argis said firmly. _Oh, so we're back to 'Bright Eyes', now? _she thought, disappointed. "But I don't fault you if you want to go home, Pipsqueak," Argis continued. "This is definitely more than you bargained for." Privately, he was more worried than he let on at how close they'd come to losing the one person they had both come to rely upon. He made a vow to himself to stick closer to his "Bright Eyes", and protect her at all costs.

"I'm not going to bail on you guys," Petra said, indignantly. "If you both think we can make it, then I'm staying!"

Argis ruffled her hair in a gesture of approval. Alorra smiled and gave her a one-armed hug around the shoulders. "Give me a minute to catch my breath and we'll get going again," she said.

There were two doors, one on either side of the stairway on the upper level. Petra told them that the one on the right led to an area that had an alchemy lab, an enchanting table and an anvil. "That was the hammering we heard," she explained. "It looked like he was working on some jewelry to enchant. I found a lot of good stuff in there," she grinned, patting her backpack, which was beginning to bulge in an alarming manner.

"We need to go that way," Alorra said, pointing to the other doorway across from them. "If my memory serves me right, there's a library up there, some other smaller rooms, and a grand stairway that spirals up."

"Where does that lead?" Argis asked.

Alorra took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "To the Ritual Chamber," she said. "We need to hurry." She headed to the doorway, and the other two followed.

The corridor beyond took a sharp turn to the right and opened to a flight of stairs leading up. As they approached the top, they could see the room ahead was filled with bookshelves.

"Watch yourselves here," Alorra whispered. "There could be anyone hiding behind these shelves." Petra nodded, and Argis gave a murmured, "Mmm," and hefted his greatsword. They surprised two necromancers and took them out with hardly a sound. Alorra would have loved to have taken all the books she found in this room, but steeled herself to stay focused and led them to the corridor on the opposite side of the round library.

This led them up another flight of stairs into a long, wide room flanked on either side with beds and chests. Many of the chests were either empty, or contained little of value, much to Petra's disappointment. Two smaller rooms opened off this one, again, with nothing—in Petra's mind—worth plundering.

The room took a right angle, becoming more of a hallway, and ended with a choice of two doors. "The one on the right is more sleeping chambers," Alorra said quietly. "We need to go through the one ahead."

"Can I at least look through those other rooms?" Petra pleaded.

Alorra sighed. "Make it quick, dear," she said, almost to empty air. Petra slipped through the door and was gone for several minutes.

"Why do you indulge her like that?" Argis grimaced.

"Because if I didn't, she'd find a way at a less opportune moment," Alorra smiled. "We might need her with us, and she would be off exploring a room we passed, just to see what might be inside. Besides, she does find some good stuff!"

"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced. Petra returned shortly, lugging a stone pyramid.

"What in the world—?" Alorra blinked. She would have laughed if their current situation hadn't been so dire. "Why did you take _that?_"

"It looked interesting," the younger girl replied. "Do you think it's worth anything?"

"That's a Shrine to Julianos," Argis said, working hard to keep a straight face. "He's the God of Magic, if you didn't know."

Petra almost dropped the Shrine. "It is?" she faltered. "Oh. Maybe I shouldn't have—"

"No, dear," Alorra deadpanned. "I don't think you should have. Why don't you put that back where you got it?"

"But the Big Guy took the other one—" Petra said, in half-hearted protest.

"Only because he was rescuing it," Alorra pointed out. "He's not intending to sell it for profit. Besides, it wouldn't be a very good idea to have a god mad at you."

"Uh…yeah…okay," the little thief mumbled. "Give me a minute." She disappeared back inside the room, returning a few moments later without the Shrine.

"Ready?" Alorra smiled.

Petra nodded, her face pink with embarrassment. Alorra tactfully said no more and headed for the door at the end of the hall. Beside her she could see Argis' jaw working hard to keep from bursting out laughing. She rolled her eyes and opened the door.

The stone stairway curved upward in a semi-circle, ending in a wedge-shaped landing with a door on the narrow, curved, interior wall. Alorra took a deep breath. This was it. This was as high as they could go in the Keep. Whatever was behind this door, they would have to face, the three of them together.

The vast circular room had a sunken floor, in the center of which was an eight-pointed stone dais. Around both sides were cages—not in the game, Alorra knew, but added by the minions of Melek Taus—filled with dozens of young men and women. They moaned and sobbed, or sat silently on the floor with looks of stony hopelessness on their faces.

At the far side of the room were three wedge-shaped alcoves, two of which also had the eight-pointed raised stonework. In front of the middle alcove, was a raised platform with several large levers. Behind them, stood a mage in a different color robe: this one was blood red, embroidered in black with runes that twisted the vision, and made Alorra feel ill to look at them.

"So nice of you to drop by, Outworlder," the mage sneered. "But I'm afraid this is as far as you'll get."

He threw one of the levers. The prisoners inside the cages suddenly screamed, leaping to their feet and crushing themselves against the bars as jets of flame seared forth.

_"NOOOO!"_ Alorra shrieked.

A warping sound was heard as the red-robed mage summoned a Frost Atronach onto the central stone dais. The ice daedra appeared to scan the room, eyelessly, before orienting on the three companions and lumbering toward them.

"I've got this one, Bright Eyes," Argis roared. "Help those prisoners!" He leaped for the atronach and began hacking at it with the greatsword. The huge construct of ice swung at the big Nord and smashed a glacial fist into his side.

"I've got your back!" Petra said grimly, running after him. A back-handed swipe from the atronach knocked the little blonde thief against the far wall.

The necromancer laughed cruelly as the young people in the cages shrieked and wailed, desperately trying to avoid the flames. "What will you do, Outworlder?" he grinned. "Help the prisoners or help your friends?"

"Both," Alorra snarled. She wasn't going to let him win this one! She targeted her magical energy at the switch he'd thrown. _Pull!_ she thought, gesturing with her right hand.

Nothing happened.

Alarmed, she tried again. The lever moved, but the flames kept pouring into the cages, and several of the young prisoners succumbed, fainting. Some tried to press themselves to either side of the jets, but there was little room to maneuver, and too many people inside.

The necromancer cackled evilly. "I knew you'd try something like that!" he exclaimed. "You're so predictable! Which switch is which?" he grinned. "Can you find it before it's too late?"

The atronach brought its icy fist down directly on top of Argis, and Alorra heard something crack. Hoping desperately it was ice and not bone, she threw a burst of electrical energy at the red-robed mage. It bounced harmlessly off him. A pendant at his neck glowed briefly. _Dammit!_ she thought. _He has protection!_

"This is all very sad and pathetic, don't you think?" he sneered. "I can't imagine why Ragnvald thought you were to be feared. I'll be delighted to tell him you fell to Mathias Blackheart this day."

Petra staggered to her feet and drew her bow, firing arrows at the atronach. It turned and advanced on her, and the little thief danced and dodged out of its way while trying simultaneously to keep clear of the flames that shot through the bars of the cages, and to avoid the ham-fisted blows of solid ice the creature aimed at her.

Enraged, Alorra threw her energy at the switches on the podium. _"MOVE!"_ she commanded them. All the levers moved at once; the jets of flame stopped. Mathias Blackheart's smirk faded, and he frowned.

_"FIREBOLT!"_ she roared, pointing to the atronach. The bolt of flames hit it squarely in the back and it shattered and melted into a puddle of water just as it raised its hand to crush Petra. Argis lay on the floor, still breathing but unmoving. _"HEAL!"_ she thundered, spreading out both hands, and a wave of healing energy washed out in all directions. Argis roused himself and sat up, shaking his head groggily. Many of the prisoners sighed in relief as their burns healed and their pain subsided. Petra leaped onto the stone dais and took aim at Mathias.

He disappeared from behind the levers and reappeared on the right-hand dais. Petra's arrow bounced off the far wall of the alcove where he'd been a moment before. Gesturing quickly, he shot a bolt of fire at Petra, and while she winced under the pain, the amulet around her neck glowed brightly as it absorbed the worst of the spell. Mathias snarled and fired off a bolt of electricity at Alorra.

_Ha!_ she thought triumphantly as her own pendant glowed. _It finally came in handy! _Her hair flew wildly in all directions under the electrical charge. It was time to end this. She glared at her nemesis. _"HOLD!"_ she commanded him, but Mathias shook it off.

"I don't think so, Outworlder," he said, as casually as he could, though Alorra could see he was visibly shaken at the turn of events. "Perhaps I may have underestimated you…only a bit, perhaps. You win this round, but we'll meet again, I can assure you." He made a gesture with his hand and vanished into thin air. Petra's arrow clattered through the space where he'd been.

"Son of a—" she bristled. "He got away!"

"Yes," Alorra said. "_This_ time." She went over to the cages; once again they had no key with which to open them, and Petra grinned as she pulled out her picks.

"I'm getting lots of practice, hanging with you," she quipped.

Alorra was exhausted. The spells she had cast in rapid succession had nearly drained her magicka reserves. The prisoners who still needed healing were therefore given some of the potions Petra had found during her looting. The little blonde thief quietly gave the young men and women directions to leave Fellglow Keep the fastest and safest way.

Alorra stared in profound sadness at the dozen charred bodies remaining in the cages. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Damn him!" she cried.

Argis came up behind Alorra and put his hand on her shoulder. "You saved the rest," he said. "And we cleared this outpost."

"I know," she said, quickly brushing the unshed tears away. "I should have done more, sooner. I just didn't anticipate this."

"No one could have," Argis pointed out. "But I think you handled it better than anyone could have."

It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

There was one place left to check: the roof of the tower. She doubted Mathias had only run that far and stopped, but she felt compelled to make sure. In her heart she was certain he was long gone, and only felt a small amount of satisfaction over the report he would have to give to Melek Taus.

As soon as the newly-liberated young men and women left the chamber, Alorra led Argis and Petra to the ladder and trap door she knew to be at the back of the center alcove.

A bolt of electricity hit her square in the chest as she emerged, and she stumbled. Her pendant took the brunt of the charge, however, and Argis scrambled to get out of the hole to rush the necromancer crouching behind a pile of rubble.

"I've got this!" Alorra cried. She didn't want the man killed. She needed answers.

_Hold!_ she thought as she released a burst of magicka at the man. He stiffened and fell back against the wall. Satisfied he was immobile, she and her two friends closed in.

"Now," she said to him companionably. "Why don't we have a little chat?"

"I'll tell you nothing, Outworlder bitch!" the man spat. His eyes stared straight ahead, and though he could speak, he could take no other actions.

Alorra had had enough by this time. "Oh, I think you will," she said, intensely. She gestured with one hand; a small burst of magic followed. "Because you see, I'm your new best friend. And best friends like us have to stick together."

"What the—" Petra sputtered. "What is she doing?" She moved forward, but Argis held her back.

"Watch and learn, Pipsqueak," he grinned. "This should be good."

"Well," the man said slowly, "I don't know if I should. Mathias wouldn't like it."

"Mathias is just jealous," Alorra purred, keeping up the _charm_ spell. "He knows that you're so much better than he is, at so many things. He's afraid Melek Taus will name _you_ as next High Priest."

"He has every reason to be worried!" the necromancer agreed, eagerly. "Why, if it wasn't for me, he never would have thought of this place!"

"I know, right?" Alorra smiled. "When I think of him and Ragnvald, sitting up there at—where did you say it was again?"

"Morvunskar," the man supplied.

"Yes, that's right, Morvunskar," she agreed. Not the information she'd hoped to get; she already knew about Morvunskar. "Well, when I think of the two of them sitting up there and taking all the glory for your ideas, well, it just makes me mad!"

"I never get any credit," the necromancer bemoaned. "It was my idea to use the younger souls. I told Mathias they were stronger than the old and infirm he wanted to use, and we wouldn't need as many. And did you know I was the one that suggested Saarthal in the first place?"

"Really?" Alorra exclaimed, feigning surprise, yet secretly delighted. _This_ was what she'd been hoping to get!

"Yes! I told them there had to be some residual energy from the Eye of Magnus there that we could draw off to—" the man broke off. "To—" he frowned.

"What's happening?" Petra whispered.

"I don't know," Argis murmured. "Looks like he's fighting something."

Alorra could sense it, too. The man was having an internal battle with something trying to prevent him from talking.

"What were they going to use the energy for?" she queried insistently.

"NO!" the man exclaimed. "NO! My lord—I didn't—_NOOOOOOO!"_ He jerked, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Quickly Alorra attempted to revive the man, but it was too late. In mere heartbeats, he was gone. Frustrated, she pushed the body away from her.

"Damn!" she swore. "We were so close to getting an answer, too!"

"But didn't you already say they were going to use the energy to bring Melek Taus to Tamriel?" Petra asked.

"It's what I think they're going to do," Alorra qualified. "But I wanted confirmation."

"Still," Argis pointed out, "it looks like they may be taking the soul gems to Saarthal. That's more than we knew before."

"Where's Saarthal?" Petra asked.

"Winterhold," Alorra and Argis answered at the same time.

"But we have to go to Morvunskar first," Alorra said. "We have to stop them from killing any more young people."

"We should get moving, then," Argis commented. "The next moonless night is only two days away."

Alorra nodded. They still had much to do, and so little time, it seemed, in which to do it.


	10. Chapter 9

**Deus Occidere**

**Chapter 9**

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Alorra, Argis and Petra made one side trip upon leaving Fellglow Keep. At a request from the sandy-haired Nord, they went back to the hilltop where the Shrine of Talos once stood. Argis carefully and reverently placed the Shrine they'd found at Fellglow on the stone plinth. He stood quietly for several moments while Petra and Alorra hung back to give him privacy with his thoughts.

_Please,_ Alorra prayed_, protect this place. Don't let anyone find it who shouldn't._

It may have been a trick of the sunlight, but she thought the Shrine glowed briefly. Neither Petra nor Argis reacted to it, but Alorra felt certain her heartfelt prayer had been heard. She just wasn't sure which Power heard her. She was learning that while she had come here under the guidance and protection of her Creator, Skyrim—and indeed Tamriel itself—had Powerful Beings of its own watching over it.

Before they left the Shrine, Alorra released the souls from the gems they'd found at Fellglow. It was easier this time than before; she still felt tired from the expenditure of energy, but the exultation of the freed souls more than made up for it. She had hoped they would find more trapped souls, but Mathias Blackheart had apparently taken them with him.

They continued on, west and south, to find a place to ford the White River. The road which would eventually lead them to Morvunskar was on the far bank.

As they rode along, Petra scouted ahead. Argis stayed with the woman he'd sworn to protect.

"My Grandfather told me stories," he said at last. "My family was always loyal to Skyrim first, the Empire second, but until the Civil War we always worshipped the Nine Gods. Grandfather told me it almost broke the Bulwark's heart when Talos worship was outlawed. He wore an amulet to Talos under his armor until the day he died."

"What happened to the amulet?" Alorra asked, sympathetically.

"It was lost years ago," he replied. "My father was Housecarl to Emmett Valrayn, Thane of the Reach, and they were fighting bandits along the Karth River. Pa was crossing a rope bridge the brigands had strung across a tributary, advancing in front of Thane Emmett. The brigands were being wiped out, and they knew it. In a last act of desperation, they cut the bridge, and sent my Pa and Thane Emmett tumbling into the river."

"Oh my gosh!" Alorra exclaimed. "Were they alright?"

Argis chuckled. "Oh yeah, they were fine. Pa saved his Thane's life that day, too; one of many times. It would have taken more than a dunking in the river to finish off my father," he said proudly. "But in the rushing water, he lost the amulet. He was always sad about that, since it had belonged to the Bulwark himself. And it wasn't exactly something he could replace."

"Is your father still living?" Alorra asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah," Argis nodded. "He and Ma have a farmstead near Old Hroldan. My oldest sister Gemma and her family live nearby. And my older brother, Riordan, is Housecarl to Thane Julius at Understone Keep."

"Are you the youngest?"

Argis shook his head. "No, I've got two younger brothers, the twins, Roland and Aksel. They're still young, and haven't left home yet."

"When was the last time you saw your family?" Alorra asked.

Argis shrugged. "It's been a while. I've been doing a lot of mercenary work the last few years." He hesitated. "Truth is, I haven't been home since—well, since…"

"Since your Thane died," Alorra finished for him. He nodded. "They're your family, Argis. I'm sure they don't blame you for what happened."

"You don't know my family," he said morosely. "When I became Housecarl my Pa was as proud as could be. When I was dismissed, well, I think he felt shamed. You're not from here, so you don't know how it is."

Alorra shook her head. "That's where you're wrong, Argis," she said quietly. "Things like that happened in the world I left, too."

They forded the river at the widest, shallowest spot Alorra could remember, just west of Valtheim Towers and rejoined the road, heading east. Unlike the game, where this particular location always seemed to spawn bandits, here it was an outpost manned by Whiterun guards, who watched the eastern border of the Hold where it joined both the Pale and Eastmarch.

The road led them along the White River, as it descended into the gorge that ended in a falls just east of the Towers. The day was wearing on, storm clouds were gathering, and Alorra began to get worried about where they would spend the night. There were no towns or settlements in this area of which she was aware. She mentioned her concern to the others.

"There's Fort Amol, just a little bit south of here, near the bridge," Petra said. "It's not too far from the old giant camp."

"Giants?!" Alorra exclaimed, alarmed. "I don't want to have to fight giants!"

"Relax," Petra said. "There aren't any giants in this part of the country anymore."

"The Pipsqueak is right," Argis agreed. "They were driven up into the mountains, years ago, just like the trolls and the dragons."

Alorra was only slightly relieved. They might not have to deal with them now, but sooner or later, if she remembered her Skyrim geography correctly, they would have to cross mountain passes to get to Sarthaal.

Fort Amol was an Imperial outpost on the western bank of the Darkwater River, just south of its confluence with the White River. The two rivers merged and flowed north, eventually joining with the Yorgrim before emptying into the Sea of Ghosts to the northeast of Windhelm. The Fort was ancient, but well-maintained, consisting of a barracks, a prison and a watchtower. Alorra hoped they would find hospitality here.

The Captain, Adamo, was reluctant to allow them to stay. "We're a military fortress," he scowled. "Not some damned inn."

"It's only for one night," Alorra pleaded. "The storm is almost on us, and we'll never make it to Windhelm tonight." She didn't tell him they had no intention of going to Windhelm.

"Damned travelers," the Captain muttered. "Fine, you can stay in the common room. But if I find any of you sneaking around the barracks you'll be out of here faster than a skeever with its tail on fire, you understand?"

"Completely," Alorra nodded, relieved they wouldn't have to camp out in the rain.

To set the Captain's mind at ease, the three of them set up their bedrolls near a large, open fireplace, ate a quick meal and settled themselves down to get as much rest as they could in the active fort.

0

_ Argis found himself in a room he didn't recognize; a bedroom, from the look of it. A fire was burning in the hearth, and a table and two chairs were set on one side of the room. A large bed covered in sleeping furs was set on the other._

_ The door opened, and a red-haired woman entered. He knew her. How did she get here? And why couldn't he remember her name? Oh, but why question trivial things when she was here and he loved her._

_ Her green eyes sparkled and lit up her smile. She wore a loose robe in a color that matched her eyes. "Come to me, my love," she breathed, opening her arms in invitation._

_ He didn't hesitate. He was already getting hard under his tunic. Where was his armor? Oh well, it didn't matter. A tunic was much easier to remove, after all._

_ And then they were naked, lying together on the bed. How did that happen? He didn't remember getting undressed. It's just a dream, he told himself. No, this was more than a dream. Could a dream taste the way her lips tasted, or her skin? Could a dream smell like the red mountain flowers she preferred? Could a dream feel so warm and wet and slick? He could feel his breath coming faster, could feel the curling sensation in his loins as his cock positioned itself against her tight pussy._

_ "Yes!" she cried, green eyes fixed on his amber ones. "Take me, my love! Make me scream your name!"_

_ IT'S JUST A DREAM! his mind screamed at him. WAKE UP!_

0

Argis awoke with the worst hard-on he could remember having. Groaning, he looked around. It was dark, except for a soft glow coming from the fireplace. Petra and Alorra still slept huddled on their pallets a few feet away. They were still at Fort Amol, and from the sound of things it must be very late in the night or early in the morning, as there was very little noise. Gasping, he rose from his pallet and staggered to the loo to relieve himself.

A few moments later, he returned to splash some cold water on his face from the bucket by the fireplace. That dream was too real! It was the fourth one he'd had this month, and this time he'd damn near almost soiled his sleeping furs. He glanced over guiltily at Alorra, who was still sleeping not five feet away. She knew so many things that were beyond his experience. Could she read minds, too? Could she tell he'd been having erotic dreams about her? He sincerely hoped not!

Argis gave a ragged sigh. He'd sworn to protect her, but how could he do that when he couldn't even protect her from himself? Oh sure, nothing had happened…yet. But the dreams were becoming more than a nuisance, they were becoming distracting. The last thing he needed in the middle of a fight was the thought of his Bright Eyes writhing and mewling in pleasure under him. His traitorous cock pulsed with the idea.

"Down, boy," he growled at it in frustration. He ran a hand through his hair and returned to his pallet. Might as well try and get some more sleep. The dream wouldn't return tonight, he knew. But it had certainly kept him from getting any rest. As he lay there, trying to relax, the thought occurred to Argis: maybe this was part of the Enemy's plan, to keep them fatigued?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely. The last one he'd had had been right before they'd hit Fellglow Keep. And now they planned to infiltrate Morvunskar tomorrow. Were the others experiencing disturbing dreams as well? He'd have to ask Alorra about it, but how to do that without revealing his own? That would be far too embarrassing for both of them. There had to be a way that he could broach the subject. Thinking about this, Argis soon drifted off to sleep again.

0

They woke early, still bleary-eyed and tired, broke their fast and thanked the Captain for his "hospitality". The sun wasn't up yet when they rejoined the road and turned their steps northward. The rain had cleared during the night and it promised to be a comfortable day.

They met nothing on the road and by mid-morning approached the turn-off that would take them up a long hill to Morvunskar.

"I don't like this," Petra worried. "They've cleared a lot of the area on the approach. They'll see us coming for a good quarter mile before we can even get close." They had crouched in some bushes some distance back while Petra went ahead to scout out the enemy.

Alorra frowned. Even in the game, a direct assault on Morvunskar, unless one was high enough level, would have been considered suicide. She had no intention of letting her friends get hurt.

"Can we get around behind the tower?" she asked. She was pretty sure it was possible, at least her memories said it was.

"We could," Argis mused, "but it would take time. Masser and Secunda won't be out tonight, and we don't know when they'll start the sacrifices."

"What about a Potion of Invisibility?" Alorra asked.

"I've got one," Petra said. "It won't last long, though."

"Would it last long enough for you to sneak in there and lift the portcullis?"

"It might," the little blonde thief nodded. "But you'd have to get through that passageway that they've riddled with traps."

"Leave that to me," Argis said. "I've got an idea."

"What are you going to do?" Alorra demanded, suspiciously.

"Let it be a surprise, Bright Eyes," he said with a wolfish grin. He turned to Petra. "Just stay clear of that passageway once you get the gate open, okay?"

"You got it, Big Guy," she said, snapping him a smart salute.

"Wait a minute," Alorra protested. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you two putting yourselves in danger like this."

"We'll be fine, Bright Eyes," Argis said earnestly. "If you could just give us a distraction, to draw them away from the gate, that would help."

"Alright," Alorra caved in. "I can do that. Let me work my way around to the east. I'll shoot up a fireball or something so you'll know to get moving."

She crouched and crept away as quietly as she was able, but she was nowhere near as skilled at this as Petra. Her companions looked after her.

"Nice way to get the Boss Lady out of the line of fire, Big Guy," Petra approved.

"She's not out of danger," Argis worried. "There's not much on that side of the fort. She won't have to go far to fall off. I hope she's careful."

"So what's your plan?"

"Just get your backside in there and get ready to open that gate, Pipsqueak," he growled. "And stay clear of that area when you do."

Petra looked as though she wanted to argue with him, but nodded once instead and slinked away into the shadows.

Argis retraced his steps quickly back down the hill to an overturned cart by the side of the road. It was too bad it had just rained, but he hoped to find enough dry grasses and twigs under the pine branches. Working as fast as he could he filled the cart with as much dry tinder as he could find and began pushing it back up to their waiting position.

He had just gotten himself placed when a series of spells went off on the eastern side of Morvunskar.

"Here we go," he told himself. "Make the Bulwark proud!" He struck flint with his dagger until the sparks flew, dropping into the dry grass in the cart. Smoking at first, they very quickly caught and spread until small flames licked at the dry pine branches.

Argis grabbed the rails which would have been used to fasten a harness and pushed with all his might. The cart was small, not much more than a goat cart, but it was still heavy and he was pushing uphill; he grunted with the effort.

As the wind shifted direction the smoke cleared and the flames spread more quickly. The pine branches hissed and crackled as the pitch caught fire. The ground leveled out a few hundred feet before the gate, and Argis saw it was open.

_Good girl, Pipsqueak!_ he thought, and pushed as hard as he could. The cart, bouncing over a somewhat level surface now, picked up momentum of its own and Argis was glad the wind was coming from behind him now, as it was starting to blaze up nicely.

As he entered the passageway he gave a mighty shove and sent the cart bouncing over bear traps and trigger plates ahead of him. He hung back as poisoned darts shot from the sides and thudded harmlessly into the cart. When the danger passed he followed with sword drawn.

The cart had stopped halfway, and now Argis could see several mages headed back toward the main gate, having been unable to locate the source of the spells that had gone off.

_Just stay hidden, Bright Eyes,_ he pleaded silently. He gave the cart a kick, sending it ahead of him, and the enemy shouted in dismay as smoke and flames billowed forth, obscuring their line of sight to Argis. Through the conflagration, Argis suddenly saw two of the mages fall to the ground. He was sure it was Petra and gave a feral grin as he kicked the cart one last time to send it rolling into the courtyard beyond.

Two more of the enemy dropped where they stood, and Argis emerged from the passageway, immediately accosted by a half-dozen more, some necromancers, some mercenaries.

This was something he understood, and he allowed himself to slip into the comfortably familiar pattern of striking, parrying, advancing and blocking that had served him so well in the Reach.

Flames washed over him suddenly, and for a moment he thought the wind had changed direction again, and that he was too close to the cart. But this was coming from ahead of him, not from the side. A fire-mage was lining up another fireball at him, and Argis dove for cover behind a broken wall.

_Gods, I hate fire!_ he groused to himself. He sheathed the sword and shrugged his bow off his back. Just as he was about to let fly he saw a smaller shadow separate itself from a larger one behind the mage. Two quick, jerky movements, and the mage toppled shoulders-first over the edge of the roof upon which he stood. His head rolled the other way.

The shadow melted away to seek another target.

_'Atta girl, Pipsqueak! _he silently cheered.

Another mercenary in front of Argis was flung backward as an ethereal arrow plunged into his chest. Startled, Argis followed the trajectory back to see Alorra on top of the wall across the courtyard. She ducked down behind a pile of rubble as a wave of ice was sent her way.

_"ARGH!"_ he heard her cry.

At that point, something inside Argis snapped, and he remembered little of the fight afterwards. All he could think of was getting to Alorra's side as quickly as possible, but people kept getting in the way, so he cut them down.

When he finally reached her she was shivering, but still shooting arrows from that ridiculous ethereal bow of hers. She let it disperse when she ran out of targets.

"I'm ok-kay," she said, as briskly as she could. "Where's P-petra?"

"Getting ahead, last I saw," Argis commented wryly. He knew she didn't understand his macabre joke, but that was okay.

"We need to get m-moving," Alorra said. Would she ever feel warm again? That ice wall spell was brutal! "We have to get ins-side."

"Not until I'm sure you're recovered," Argis scowled. "I thought you were going to shoot off spells from outside the walls to distract them."

"That was _your_ plan," Alorra pointed out. "I never said I'd stay put out there!"

"They could have killed you!" he growled at her. "How did you get up on the wall, anyway?"

"There's a low spot on the northeast side that's crumbled. I climbed up there," Alorra said. "And anyway, what's the big idea barging in through the front gate? I thought we were going for subtlety here." She glared back at him.

"We needed to get inside quickly," Argis all but yelled. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, but now every one of Melek Taus' followers inside knows we're here. They'll be ready for us! We've lost any element of surprise we might have had! They might already have started the sacrifices!"

Argis opened his mouth to retort but stopped. He couldn't think of anything to say. She was right, of course. He'd blown it. He hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Bright Eyes," he said contritely. "I guess I didn't think things through."

Alorra felt her anger subside. She put her hand on his arm. "It's okay, Argis," she said. "If you'd told me what you intended to do we might have been able to come up with another plan."

"Ma? Da?" a voice called. "Are you two done arguing?"

Alorra and Argis turned to see Petra standing below at the foot of a set of stone stairs that led up through the lower garrison to a second level. A short distance away from the stairs on that level was a braced wooden door.

Alorra felt the heat rise in her cheeks again. "Yes, dear, we're done. And we're not arguing. We're having a discussion." Argis snorted.

"Good," the cheeky little thief answered. "Because I've cleared the first room inside. You might want to come and help me with the rest, though." She headed up to the second level and made her way over to the door.

"We'll be right there," Alorra called, leading Argis down the stairs to the courtyard.

"She's getting awfully full of herself, isn't she?" the big Nord grumbled.

Alorra chuckled. "Yes, but we love her just the same, don't we?"

0

True to her word, Petra had cleared the first interior level of Morvunskar by herself.

"It wasn't that hard," she explained. "As soon as the Boss Lady sent up her signal I drank my potion, opened the gate and snuck inside this building. I knew the two of you could handle the mercs and mages outside."

"It was still very dangerous to go in without any kind of back-up," Alorra frowned.

"They never even saw me!" Petra exclaimed. "I was invisible! And besides, there weren't that many in here. As soon as I finished them off I came back out. I'm not foolish enough to go up against Ragnvald on my own!"

Alorra shook her head in resignation and explored the two tower rooms. Set up with altars, they were empty. It looked like nothing was happening yet. The three companions headed down the stairs and followed the passageway as it dog-legged to the left. At the end, another passageway led to the left again, widening and ending in an open doorway with stairs leading down. In the gloom Alorra could see a glow of firelight coming from the chamber beyond.

"Get ready for a fight," Argis said in a low voice.

"They shouldn't see us right away," Alorra whispered back. "There are stairs leading down to the right beyond that doorway, and we'll have to double-back to get into the room. There are large support columns, and a raised platform toward the back of the room."

By now Argis and Petra didn't even question her foreknowledge of the ruins. They nodded, and Petra readied her bow.

They crept down the stairs as quietly as they could, keeping to the shadows and using the stone support columns as cover. As the chamber opened up, they could see that the far left wall had been set up with holding cages, which contained a score or more scared-looking young people in rags and tatters. The raised area at the back of the room had been set up with an altar to Melek Taus. Several priests were there, setting up the dread ceremony which would soon take place. The effigy of Melek Taus leered above them on the wall behind the altar.

At the bottom of the steps a figure was kneeling, chained to the floor. His horned head and reddish skin would have made anyone from Alorra's old life think they'd met the Lord of Evil himself, Melek Taus. But she knew in an instant it wasn't the Enemy.

"By Ysmir's beard!" Argis breathed. "Is that who I think that is?"

"Is that Melek Taus?" Petra hissed. "Why is he chained?"

"That's not our Enemy," Alorra murmured. "That's Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Revelry."

"How did he get here?" Argis demanded, barely above a whisper. "And how could they have captured a Daedric Prince?"

"I don't know," Alorra admitted. "But we have to try to save him."

"How?" Petra asked, her blue eyes widening in fear and wonder. Alorra was struck, not for the first time, just how young the girl was. Though she herself didn't look very much older than the little blonde thief, Petra could not have seen more than sixteen summers.

"Give me a moment to think," Alorra said, her mind running ahead. The other two sat patiently, trusting that she would come up with a good idea. She hadn't failed them yet.

Sanguine, she knew, was part of a side quest in the game. If the player progressed through the quest, they would eventually win the Daedric Prince's staff, the Sanguine Rose, which could summon a Dremora from the planes of Oblivion to fight for the player. They could use something like that now.

Wait. She _did_ have something like that. Not exactly the Sanguine Rose, but something perhaps a bit better.

Quickly, she outlined her idea to the others.

"You sure you want to free a Daedric Prince?" Argis murmured doubtfully.

"Quite sure," she insisted. "Let's stick to the plan this time, okay?"

"You're the Boss Lady," Petra said, readying her bow.

At her signal they moved forward. Alorra let Argis and Petra rush past her as she stopped behind Sanguine.

"What's happening?" the Daedra demanded. "Who are you?"

"A friend, I hope," Alorra said. She pointed two fingers at the chains and locks holding Sanguine to the floor. Her power was almost bursting within her. _OPEN!_ she silently commanded. The locks snapped open and the chain links burst. The sudden backwash of energy from them sent her flying backwards. Magical locks. Of course. She should have expected that, she thought groggily, shaking her head to clear it as she got back on her feet. It would take more than ordinary chains to hold a Daedric Prince.

Freed, Sanguine roared in indignation and swept down the hallway past the cages and raised platform. Alorra heard screams and explosions coming from that direction as she staggered to her feet. From the altar area she heard the sounds of fighting and knew that Petra and Argis were dealing with the necromancers.

She quickly threw a protective shield around the caged prisoners and went to help her two companions. Judging from the noise further down the corridor, she didn't think Sanguine needed any.

Argis had already taken out three of the priests, and Petra could account for two more. Alorra was suddenly wreathed in flames coming from behind her, and she gasped at the searing pain. One of the fire-mages had circled around, in an effort to escape Sanguine's wrath, no doubt, and had come down the same stairs they had used to enter this chamber.

Alorra had to put up her shield around herself, leaving the prisoners unguarded. She had no choice. The fire was too intense to ignore. She soon saw why; the mage had a staff in his hand, pointing it at her. A huge ball of flame enveloped her again, diffused somewhat this time by her shield, but Alorra worried for the safety of the prisoners. She could back up to the cages and extend the shield to protect them as well, but it would leave her very little magicka to deal with the fire-mage.

It was time to implement the other half of her plan. She pulled the Wabbajack off her back and pointed it at the minion of Melek Taus. As Petra had done before her, she cried out, _"WABBAJACK!"_

The effect was as ingenious as it was unpredictable. The staff in the priest's hand turned into a very large snake, which began to coil itself around the man's neck. Stunned and terrified, the priest frantically tried to pull the reptile off him, and only succeeded in becoming further entangled in its embrace. The snake constricted, and the man's screams were cut short as he gasped for breath.

"Don't kill him yet," Alorra told the snake, who looked at her and flicked its tongue. "I need a few answers. Just hold him there." The snake ducked its head in obedience as Argis and Petra returned, having dealt with the remaining necromancers at the altar.

"Do you hear that?" Petra asked, breathlessly, sheathing her bow on her back once more.

"No," Alora said, puzzled. "Hear what?"

"Silence," Petra said. "I guess Sanguine must have taken care of the rest of the minions."

"Sanguine has indeed exacted revenge on these misguided mortals," said the Daedric Prince, coming down the stone steps behind them. "And I have the three of you to thank for it. If there's anything you need, just name it."

Petra, for once, said nothing. The presence of a Daedric Lord was almost too much for the perky thief. She quickly backed away and went over to the cages to release the prisoners and send them home.

"How did they manage to capture you?" Alorra asked, amazed.

"By guile and trickery," Sanguine frowned. "Somehow their leader, a man named Ragnvald, knew I frequented this place once upon a time. It's the closest location to the portal to my own plane of Oblivion. He set a trap for me, which I fell into. That's all I'll say about that. I'm not very proud of being duped."

"Why capture a Daedric Prince, though?" Alorra wanted to know.

"Are you kidding me?" Sanguine snorted. "You mortals have been summoning, capturing, enslaving and killing Dremora for centuries, using their hearts to make your Daedric armor and healing potions. How much more powerful would the heart of a Daedric Lord be?"

"A lot more powerful," Argis mused. "Powerful enough to…I don't know…maybe bring someone back from the dead? These guys _were_ necromancers, after all."

"Ah, the big Nord has more than muscle between the ears!" Sanguine grinned. "I don't know what's been going on here in Nirn since the last time I visited, but things are changing, and not for the better! A few of the Daedra seemed to have gone missing, and no one seems to know what's happened to them. But since you mortals are mostly afraid of us, you haven't really cared, either."

Daedric Princes were missing? This was important! "Who's missing?" Alorra asked.

Sanguine's brow wrinkled, and he petted the snake absently. The constrictor seemed to like it, tightening its hold on the priest, who whimpered in response.

"Let me think," he said. "Boethiah was the first one to vanish. After her I think it was Mehrunes Dagon….or was it Molag Bal? No, I'm certain Mehrunes disappeared before Molog. And more recently, Mephala has been missing."

"How do you know they're missing, and not just ignoring us mortals?" Argis asked skeptically.

"Because their Shrines are vanishing, idiot," Sanguine shot back. "They're being replaced with _those_ hideous things." He pointed to the effigy of Melek Taus. "And here I thought you were smart."

Argis bristled, but said nothing. This _was_ a Daedric Prince, after all, and he _had _just done them a huge favor in taking out the remaining followers of the Enemy still left in Morvunskar.

"I see you have the Wabbajack," Sanguine continued. "Very handy, I must say, if unpredictable. But then, Sheogorath never was one for predictability. I think you might get some use from this." Out of thin air, he pulled the staff Alorra recognized from a lifetime ago, the Sanguine Rose. It was even more beautiful than she remembered. The Daedric Prince handed it to her, and she accepted it almost reverently before the Lord of Revelry stepped close to her. Even with the horns and red-toned skin, he was actually quite handsome, she thought.

"Take out this Melek Taus," he told her grimly. "I don't know who he is, but I know what he wants. He wants to take over Nirn, and he's doing it one Daedric Prince at a time. If you three hadn't come along, I might have ended up on the list of casualties."

"What about him?" Argis said, pointing to the priest. Killing someone in battle was one thing, but he had no stomach for killing someone in cold blood. He also didn't like how close the Prince was standing to Alorra. It seemed too…intimate, somehow.

"I'll take him home with me," Sanguine grinned. "I'm sure I can find some use for him."

The priest's eyes widened in fear, and he struggled against the snake, who hissed warningly.

"No! Please!" he begged. "Anything but that! I'll tell you anything you want to know!"

Alorra stepped up to him. "How do I know you would be speaking the truth?" she demanded. "Your false god is the Father of Lies, after all."

"I swear to you," the man pleaded. "On anything you want me to swear upon, I'll tell you what I know," he promised. "Just don't let _him_ take me!" He nodded at Sanguine, who leered at him.

"Don't trust him," Argis growled. "He'll say anything to avoid what's coming to him."

"I don't trust him," Alorra said. "But I trust I can make him tell me the truth." She let her power build then released it with a gesture, pointing a finger and touching the priest's lips with it.

_"Truth,"_ she breathed. The man shuddered, and even Sanguine took a step back.

"I've never seen anyone do that before! You're no ordinary mage," he observed, in a tone of near-respect.

Argis threw the Prince a look of smug amusement. "You have no idea," he grinned.

"Now," said the red-haired girl, "tell me what's going on at Sarthaal."

"All I know is they were going to try to bring Melek Taus into Tamriel there," the priest said. "They were going to try to tap into the power left behind by the Eye of Magnus." He began to squirm uncomfortably, and Alorra gestured for the snake to let go. She was quite sure the fire-mage wouldn't be able to escape before she got her answers. The constrictor reluctantly loosened its grip and slid over to Sanguine, who stroked it absently between the eyes as it coiled lightly around his shoulders.

"You said they were going to try," Alorra said. "Is that what all the souls were to be used for?"

"Partly," the priest admitted. "But the Psijic Monks prevented us from entering Sarthaal, so we had to abandon that plan."

"And where is Ragnvald now?"

"I can answer that one," Sanguine said grimly. "I ripped his head off down the corridor there. You might want to exit the way you came in, if that sort of thing makes you squeamish."

That was one loose end, Alorra thought with no twinge of regret. But it left another.

"Then what about Mathias Blackheart?" she asked.

The priest began to squirm again, and Alorra had a feeling she knew what was happening, but this time she was ready. She sent of tendril of her energy out to wrap around the priest's mind, to shield it, and immediately she felt resistance.

"No!" the man cried. "I can't—tell you—anymore!" He gasped. "He's there! In my mind! He'll kill me!"

Suddenly the man's countenance changed, his eyes went completely black and his face lost all expression. _"You insolent worm!"_ came a Voice from the man's mouth that was so obviously not his own. This one sounded ages old, and hinted at great evil.

"Melek Taus," Alorra said, as calmly as she could, though panic raced through her. "So nice of you to join us. We were just talking about you."

_"This one is mine, Outworlder,"_ said the Voice. _"You cannot keep him from me. I claim my own."_

The man stiffened, but Alorra threw more of her energy into the shield around the priest's mind.

"My Boss is more powerful than you, Melek Taus," she gritted, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "We won't let you take over Tamriel!"

Alorra felt the priest's mind cracking under the stress. Melek Taus' influence was too deeply ingrained in the man. If she continued to try to protect him, she would only end up draining herself, and reducing the man before her into a blithering imbecile. But if she let go now, his soul would be lost forever.

_I need help! _she prayed. It came from a most unexpected quarter.

"I claim this one for _my_ own, Melek Taus," declared Sanguine. He put his hand on Alorra's shoulder, and power such as she had seldom felt surged through her. "This man is _my_ servant now, so begone! Get your ass out of here!"

With the power coming from Sanguine, Alorra found she was able to push Melek Taus' influence out of the fire-priest's mind completely; it vanished, howling, back to the Void from which it had come.

The priest collapsed, blubbering, to the ground. Alorra wobbled, wanting to follow, but Argis appeared on one side, and Petra on the other to support her.

"Thank you, my lord Sanguine," she said unsteadily to the Daedric Prince. "Your assistance was as welcome as it was…unexpected."

"I owed you one, my dear," the Daedra smiled and winked. "Now, I'll just take my new pet here and be on my way."

"Must you?" Alorra pleaded. "The Enemy's influence is gone, and this is a broken man. He's no real threat to anyone now." _At least I saved his mind and soul,_ she thought.

Sanguine looked down at the weeping priest. "Who said anything about _him_?" he grinned. "I was talking about this _marvelous_ snake!" He crooned at the reptile. "Aren't you just the sweetest little ophidian, hmm?" In the blink of an eye, and with a warping sound, he and the snake vanished.


	11. Chapter 10

**Deus Occidere**

**Chapter 10**

_(Disclaimer: I do not own the concept of Skyrim or any of the characters created by Bethesda. Original characters have been created by me, but may be based in part on characters created by Bethesda. My thanks to them for creating such a wonderful world to play in.)_

Alorra left Morvunskar with Argis and Petra in a troubled frame of mind. She was still no closer to defeating the Enemy than she'd been when she first came to Skyrim, though she had learned much in that time.

The dark elf fire-mage—whose name they learned was Einar—begged to accompany them. The after-effect of her spell had reduced him to speaking only the truth, "From now on, I fear," as he put it. "I will spend the rest of my life in servitude to Arkay, and if he is willing, perhaps someday I may be able to forgive myself for the things I have done, and for which I am truly sorry."

Argis still didn't trust him, but Alorra assured the big Nord that Einar would do them no harm. As they left the ruins and turned their steps towards Windhelm, the closest city, she mulled over the facts in her mind.

Firstly: that the cult of Melek Taus was attempting to bring the ancient god of evil here to Tamriel. Secondly: they were sacrificing young people for their souls' energy to use in the attempt. Thirdly: they were taking over the Tamrielic Shrines of the Daedric Lords for their power and strategic locations around Skyrim.

This latest information troubled her deeply. It told her that Melek Taus' presence in Skyrim had been here for much longer than she had anticipated. Sanguine had implied that the heart of a Daedric Lord would be powerful enough to raise the dead. The hearts of several might be enough to bring a being as powerful as Melek Taus through whatever portal his minions were trying to construct to bring him to the realm of Nirn. The fact that the Psijic Monks had kept the cult out of Sarthaal was something for which she was truly grateful. She wished, not for the first time however, that the College of Winterhold was still in existence. The vast repository of knowledge in the library there would have helped.

She mentioned her concerns to her friends.

"If I may offer my insight," Einar began diffidently. Argis scowled, but Alorra nodded for him to proceed. "There are—or I should say _were_—sixteen Daedric Lords. My former associates and I were able to capture four. Sanguine—" here he shuddered, "—would have been the fifth. There are still eleven others out there, and I know that plans were being made to take over their Shrines and capture those Daedric Lords as well. It was my understanding that Mel—" here he choked, coughed and gasped. "My apologies. I cannot even say his name now. The _Enemy_," he insisted, "needed to obtain all sixteen hearts, to be used all at once in a specific ceremony. You have forestalled his acquisition of Sanguine's, but that doesn't mean he won't try again."

"Where have they kept the other four Princes?" Alorra asked, but Einar shrugged helplessly.

"I wasn't privy to that information, I'm afraid," he confessed.

"But with eleven other Daedric Lords," Petra complained, "how do we know where the Enemy will strike next?"

Argis mused under his breath, "Figures he'd start with the ones closest to his own nature."

"What did you say, Argis?" Alorra queried.

"Well, you've told us this Melek Taus was an ancient god of evil where you came from," he explained. "Boethiah was the first one he took. She was the Prince of Plots. Then Mehrunes Dagon, the Prince of Destruction, followed by Molog Bal, the Daedric Prince of Corruption, and finally Mephala, the Webspinner."

Alorra nodded. "I think you've hit on something, Argis. Who does that leave?"

"There's Namira and Peyrite," Einar offered. "Princes of Decay and Pestilence, respectively."

"We've already had the pestilence," Alorra said wryly. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't happen again if the cult goes after Peyrite's Shrine. Who else?"

"There's Nocturnal," Petra said, hesitantly. "She's the patron of people like me."

"Thieves, dear," Alorra said firmly. "Don't beat about the bush. I know what you are."

"Alright then," Petra pouted, "of thieves like me. We call her the Mistress of Shadows."

"Sanguine mentioned Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, already," Argis said. "He saw the Wabbajack."

"There's also Vaermina, Weaver of Dreams," said Einar, "and Clavicus Vile, the Master of Insidious Wishes, and Malacath, the Creator of Curses."

"And rounding out that list would be the ones considered to be not inherently evil," mused Alorra. "Those would be Azura, Hircine, Meridia and Hermaeus Mora."

The Daedric Princes of Dusk and Dawn, the Hunt, Light and Forbidden Knowledge, respectively, she knew.

"I wouldn't exactly call any of them good," Argis frowned. "Any of them would manipulate you into doing something for them before they'd do anything for you."

"Isn't that what we've just done for Sanguine?" Alorra pointed out. "We helped him out of a jam, and he gave me this very nice staff." She reached back to caress the Sanguine Rose where it rested next to the Wabbajack.

"I still don't like having dealings with the Daedric Princes," Argis scowled. "I just know this is going to come back to bite us."

Alorra felt certain he was correct, but said nothing.

"So, where do we go next?" Petra asked.

"For now, Windhelm," Alorra said firmly. "I'd like to speak to the court wizard there and see what insight they can give us."

Einar left them at the gate of the ancient Nord city and headed directly to the Hall of the Dead, to offer his services to Arkay as he had promised. Alorra wasn't sorry to see him go, but was grateful for the parting information he'd given her.

"The Enemy knows who you are now," he warned them. "And he knows what you can do. You've bloodied his nose, and that's not anything he'll be likely to forget. I'd be very careful from now on, if I were you. He has ways of getting to you through the things and people you care about the most. Good luck."

It was a troubled threesome that walked up the steps to the Candlehearth Inn and went inside. They took two rooms and stowed their gear while they made their plans. It was decided to let Petra sell off the items they had collected from Morvunskar. She had contacts in the city and could get the best prices for their plunder. Argis headed upstairs to the common room to find out what rumors might be floating around.

Alorra released the souls from the gems they had found—there were fewer than they'd found even in Fellglow Keep—then left the inn and made her way to the Palace of the Kings to speak with the court wizard, whoever that might be.

"Court wizard?" scoffed the guard at the entrance. "We haven't had one of those around here for years!"

"What about Wuunferth, the Unliving?" she asked.

The man laughed. "He _died_," he sneered. "Seems all his magic couldn't keep that from happening. After all, it wasn't like he was a Dunmer or anything like that!"

No, she supposed not. "But didn't the Jarl replace him?" she asked.

The guard's face was hidden by his helmet, but it couldn't hide the disparaging tone in his voice. "We Nords don't hold with magic," she was told, not for the first time. "Wuunferth died over fifty years ago, when Jarl Solveig was just a girl, and she never saw the need to bring in a new wizard. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my watch."

Alorra was more upset by this news than she showed. There was no court wizard in Whiterun, either, and hadn't been one for many years. Winterhold and the entire College of Wizards had fallen into the sea just prior to, or around the same time all these court mages were dying off. There wouldn't have been anyone to hire, in that case, unless the Jarls wished to take in an unknown wandering mage with no accreditation. That didn't seem very likely, as was evidenced by the lack of mages she'd seen so far.

In fact, now that she thought of it, the only mages they had encountered were on the Enemy's side. She sank down on the nearest bench, her knees suddenly going weak with this epiphany. _This is part of the plan,_ she thought. _He's not just trying to come to Nirn and take over, he's been eliminating anyone who could have stopped him for the last eighty years!_

Stunned by this revelation, Alorra hurried back to Candlehearth Inn and sought out Argis upstairs. He had his head close to three adventurer-types over several bottles of mead at a corner table, and she decided her news could wait. She went downstairs to speak with the innkeeper.

"Tell me something," she asked the woman. "You know quite a lot about the news around Skyrim, don't you?"

"I've already told that big handsome bodyguard of yours everything I know," the woman said, cannily. "Say, you two aren't…together, are you?"

"What?" Alorra felt herself blushing again. Dammit! What was wrong with her? "No!" she said quickly. "We travel together, that's all. As you said, he's my bodyguard." She turned away; this conversation was clearly over, having taken a turn she didn't wish to pursue.

"Good," she heard behind her. "A man like that has…needs, I'm sure." Alorra fled to her room and slammed the door shut. She heard a sultry chuckle through the iron-bound oak.

0

Petra returned a couple hours later to find Alorra poring over one of the books left in the room. At least, she appeared to be reading, but when she didn't look up as the little blonde thief entered, and since she hadn't turned a page in the last several minutes, Petra knew something was troubling her Boss Lady.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"About what?" Alorra returned, deliberately obtuse.

"About whatever it is that's got your smallclothes in a bundle," the cheeky blonde girl replied.

"No," said the older girl, stubbornly. "I don't want to talk about it. There's nothing to talk about. He can do whatever he likes. I don't care."

_Ah,_ thought Petra. _So it's that way._

"You know, for someone so smart," she began, "you're pretty ignorant about some things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alorra demanded, putting the book down on the table with a bit more force than was truly necessary.

"You like him," Petra said simply. "So tell him."

"Him?" Alorra blinked. "Him who? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Petra chuckled. "You're a terrible liar, too," she grinned. "You should leave that sort of thing to a professional." She tapped her chest with her thumb smugly.

"It's complicated," Alorra sniffed, picking up the book again. She didn't notice that it was upside-down. "You wouldn't understand."

"I understand people," Petra insisted, gently taking the book, turning it right side up and giving it back to her Boss Lady. "I like him, too," she continued. "But not the way you do. For me it's like having one of my big brothers around again. But you don't just like him. You love him. So tell him."

Alorra gave up on her book and set it down, more gently this time.

"It isn't that easy, Petra," she sighed. "I'm here to do a job. A very dangerous and complicated job, and one that I'm not even sure I should have involved the two of you in."

"You're not going to send us away," Petra said firmly.

Alorra laughed ruefully. "No," she admitted, "I'm not. I was told I would have help, and honestly, I don't think I could have accomplished as much as I have without either of you. But I don't want you to get hurt, either, or used as a pawn to get to me."

"Let us worry about that," Petra insisted. "You do your job and let us do ours. And if you happen to fall in love along the way, where's the harm in that?"

"The harm is that it's a distraction," Alorra said. "Caring deeply for other souls is a lesson I needed to learn over several lifetimes. But it's never been so dangerous for me to love anyone as it has been in this life. The stakes are incredibly high, and if something were to happen to either of you, I'm not sure I could carry on."

"You would," Petra said confidently. "Because you'd know we'd want you to. And because you wouldn't want whatever might happen to us to happen to anyone else. And yes, I've thought about that, don't think I haven't."

Alorra smiled and shook her head. "Dear Petra," she sighed, hugging the younger girl. "There's an awful lot of wisdom locked up in that cunning little brain of yours."

"Yeah, well, don't let anyone know, okay?" the little blonde thief grinned. "It helps keep them off balance." Then she sobered. "So what are you going to do about the Big Guy?"

"For now, nothing," Alorra said firmly. "And you're not to breathe a word, understand? Promise me. Not. One. Word."

Petra looked as though she wanted to argue the point further, but after a moment she nodded. "Okay, Boss Lady," she agreed reluctantly. "I won't say anything."

They left the small bedroom to join Argis upstairs for an evening meal. As they ate, Alorra shared with them her insights about the lack of court wizards she'd noticed so far. Argis stopped with a forkful of stew halfway to his mouth.

"By the gods," he swore. "I think you may be onto something! There hasn't been a wizard at Understone Keep since my grandfather's day."

"There used to be one at Mistveil in Riften," Petra said. "She had a funny name, and I remember her being very scatter-brained."

"Wylandriah?" Alorra supplied, remembering the character from the game.

"That was it! Wylandriah!" Petra said. "She was court wizard for the Jarl, but she left a long time ago, when I was just a kid."

"You're _still_ a kid," Argis grinned, nudging her.

"You know what I meant," Petra scowled. "When I was younger than I am now. I think I was about ten or eleven when we heard about it."

"So that's fairly recent, given the information we already have," Alorra mused. "To your knowledge, either of you, is there a court wizard in the other Hold capitals?"

"I don't know," Argis admitted, while Petra shook her head. "But I think there's someone here who might." He stood then. "I'll be right back."

He returned a few moments later with a dark-haired young man dressed in finery, carrying a lute.

"This is Stian," Argis introduced. "He's a Bard from the College in Solitude, performing here in Windhelm. He might be able to help us."

"Hello, Stian," Alorra greeted him warmly. She always liked performers and entertainers. In one of her past lives, she had been a singer. "I'm Alorra and this is Petra. You've already met Argis. We're looking for information, and we're hoping you can help us."

"I would be happy to assist you, my lady," Stian said, his eyes drifting toward Petra. "As you know, we Bards are not only performers, but publicans as well. Of course, we oftentimes have to earn our keep based on the usefulness of the information we've obtained."

The hint was not lost on Alorra. She gave him a small handful of coins which he quickly pocketed. "May I?" he asked, indicating the empty chair at their table.

Alorra nodded. "Please," she invited. Stian seated himself, still throwing glances at Petra, who actually appeared to be blushing! Alorra filed this information away for future reference.

"Now, my lady," Stian began, "what would you like to know?"

"It's just 'Alorra', please," she chuckled. "Can you tell me if there's still a court wizard in Solitude?"

"Hmm," the bard mused. "Let me think for a moment. Sybille Stentor was court wizard until last year, when she left. She didn't say where she was going, or if she would return. I heard rumors that she was 'let go', but I don't know if they were true or not. One thing is certain, though, she'd been court wizard for as long as anyone could remember, but never seemed to age."

"Was she an elf?" Petra asked, remembering Wylandriah.

Stian gave her a glowing smile. "No," he said. "I thought she was a Breton, but I've never heard of a Breton living so long, or staying so young."

Privately, Alorra thought, _It probably has something to do with the fact she's a vampire. At least, she was in the game. Didn't anyone here pick up on that?_

"Where might she have gone?" she asked now.

Stian shrugged. "I have no idea," he admitted. "They might know at the Blue Palace, but they don't share that knowledge with a lowly bard like myself."

"What about in Morthal, Falkreath, or Dawnstar?" Alorra asked.

The bard shook his head. "I'm pretty sure there's no wizard in Morthal or Dawnstar. I don't get to those places often, but I've never seen anyone at the Jarls' longhouses in that capacity. And I know for fact there's no one in Falkreath now. There used to be an Altmer woman, named Nenya; she'd been Steward and mage for the Jarls there since anyone could remember. She was murdered a couple years ago. It was a terrible scandal."

"Murdered!" Alorra exclaimed in alarm, while Petra queried, "A scandal?"

"Yes, the Jarl's own son murdered her. Claimed she'd been poisoning his father's mind against him," Stian told them. "The truth was, the young man was doing skooma and it drove him to madness. The Jarl had to lock the young man up. He never replaced his wizard, though he did find another Steward."

"That's terrible!" Alorra exclaimed in dismay. This meant that of all the court wizards mentioned in the game, only Sybille Stentor and Wylandriah remained, and they were missing. She hoped "missing" didn't mean "disposed of in a discrete manner."

"Was there anything else you'd like to know?" Stian asked. "Like, am I free for dinner tonight?" He leaned into Petra's personal space, but she didn't seem to mind. "Because I am, you know. After my performance, that is. You'll stay for my performance, I hope?"

Petra could only gulp and nod. For some reason, she was uncharacteristically speechless around the bard. Argis chuckled under his breath and Alorra hid a grin. If Argis wasn't suspicious of Stian's motives, she knew the bard had already passed the character test. Argis would never let his "Pipsqueak" associate with someone of questionable morals.

Stian proved to be an outstanding performer. His rich tenor voice rang through the rafters of Candlehearth Inn and his lute playing was extraordinary, captivating his audience. The Inn was packed to capacity, and Alorra could see it was mainly for the entertainment provided by Stian that night. He sang many old favorites and got the crowd to sing along with him. He even did a quick dance routine to the rhythm of their clapping hands.

His last song was an instrumental piece, which he played with impeccable precision, frowning over his lute in complete concentration, letting his fingers pluck the strings in a rapid succession of chords and fretwork that amazed even Alorra, who could remember masterful compositions from her previous lives. The applause he received at the conclusion resounded through the hall, and the patrons showed their appreciation in the rounds of mead he was offered, as well as a generous amount of coin.

"That was simply beautiful!" Alorra smiled when he returned to their table. "I can't remember when I've had a more enjoyable evening!"

"My thanks, my la—uh, I mean, Alorra," he smiled. "It's always nice to know I've pleased my audience."

"After your performance tonight, I don't think there could be any doubt," she smiled, then stifled a yawn. "But I'm up way past my bedtime, and I need to get some sleep. The rest of you can stay up if you like. I think we'll stay in Windhelm one more day. I won't wait up for you."

Argis rose when she did. "I'm an early riser, too," he said. "I want to see about getting my armor repaired at the smithy tomorrow. It's been taking a beating. I'll walk you to your room."

"Are you going to abandon me, too, sweet Petra?" the bard asked her. The little blonde thief blushed crimson.

"No, I can stay a while longer, if you like," she said shyly. Her two companions grinned and waved as they headed down the back stairs.

"She'll be alright with him," Alorra said. It was a statement, not a question.

"He's a good lad," Argis assured her. "I've already asked about him. Not your usual womanizing kind of entertainer. Gretna, the innkeeper, says the boy doesn't even have a sweetheart, for all he's been here three months. Seems genuinely interested in his work."

"And genuinely interested in our Petra," Alorra added. "I hope they don't end up breaking each others' hearts." She stopped at the door of the room she shared with the younger girl. "I'll see you in the morning, Argis," she smiled.

"Before you go," he hesitated, "I need to ask you something."

He sounded serious, and Alorra was immediately on the alert.

"Of course," she said, warily. "What's on your mind?"

"Not here, in the hallway," he said. "But I didn't want to worry the Pipsqueak, either." He opened the door of his room and waved her in. She hesitated for the barest moment before going in. Argis followed and closed the door.

"Sit down," he invited, waving at the chair, and she took the seat he offered. Argis sat on the bed.

"What's this about, Argis?" she asked.

"I wanted to know, can the Enemy get inside your head?" he asked.

"_MY_ head?" she repeated, startled. "No, I'm sure he can't."

"No, I mean mine, or anyone else's," Argis clarified. He looked worried.

Alorra's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Tell me what's been going on, Argis," she said calmly.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "For the last few weeks, when we've had a chance to rest, I've been having some disturbing…dreams, I guess you could call them. But they seem very real at the time."

"Dreams about what?"

Argis shook his head. "I'd rather not say," he answered. There was no way he would tell her that they had involved her. "Let's just say I was being offered something I wanted very much. But it seemed wrong to accept it."

Alorra thought about this for a long moment. She could almost imagine what kind of dreams a man like Argis might have that he wouldn't want to talk about. Finally she spoke.

"You were right to bring this to me. It means the Enemy is already trying to break us apart."

"By promising us something we want?" the big Nord asked, skeptically.

"The Enemy very often works that way, Argis," she said seriously. "He will promise you your heart's desire, but seldom delivers on those promises. Only when you accept the offer do you realize that in doing so, you've given him your soul, like Einar did." She looked her companion straight in the eyes. "He's not called the 'Father of Lies' for nothing. He can't give you what isn't his to give."

Argis considered her words. Eventually, he nodded. "It makes sense," he said finally. "But how do you prepare for that kind of attack? I can fight any man or woman who comes at me with a weapon or a spell, but how do you fight a dream?"

"By realizing that it _is_ only a dream," Alorra said firmly. "And by having faith."

"Faith?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "You have to have faith in yourself; faith in your friends; faith in your gods."

"You mean _your_ Boss," he snorted. He had a feeling it would come down to converting to another religion.

Alorra shook her head. "No, Argis," she contradicted. "My Superior is not a deity of Nirn, merely a…concerned Overseer. And I'm one of the Agents. We aren't the ones trying to take over Tamriel. We just don't want the Enemy to succeed here. And we'll do what it takes to prevent that from happening." She stood. "Thank you for letting me know about this," she said. "If you'd like, I could perhaps put some kind of shield around your mind, to prevent it from happening again."

Argis shook his head firmly. He loved her, but he wasn't going to let her into his mind. "That won't be necessary," he said, going to the door to open it for her. "I know what's going on, now. I'll be ready if it happens again."

"Then I'll say goodnight, Argis," Alorra smiled. She stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. "Believe in yourself," she said. "And in your gods, and in everything they mean to you. The Enemy can't touch you then." She smiled again, then turned and went to her room.

Argis closed the door and sat back down on the bed, touching the spot on his cheek that she had kissed. He almost wished he'd followed through on his instinct to kiss her properly, but once again his sense of honor prevented him. And he wasn't going to give the Enemy the satisfaction of winning that round. He carefully removed his armor and placed his greatsword within easy reach before stretching out and falling asleep.

0

_ It was the same familiar place, though he couldn't remember how he got here. He knew he been here before, but only in his dreams. He knew the room, the furnishings, the bed—easpecially the bed. She was waiting there for him now, stretched out, with her glorious red hair spilling over the covers. Unbound, it flowed past her waist. She wore nothing, but was covered with a fur pelt. She raised her arms._

_ "Come to me, my love!" she called._

_ He moved forward, though a voice in the back of his mind said this was wrong._

_ "What's wrong about it?" she purred. "I love you, and you want me, I can tell."_

_ He was naked. His arousal was obvious for anyone to see, but they were the only two people in the room._

_ "How did you-?" he began._

_ "Hush," she cooed, placing a finger to his lips. "Kiss me, my love," she breathed, reaching up with her arms to bring him down to her. The fur slipped away, revealing two perfect breasts, a small, curvy waist above hips that were not-too-generous, but soft and pliable. And at the juncture of her thighs, red curls rioted, begging to be parted._

_ "Yes, my love," she moaned. "Take me! Fuck me as hard as you can!" She pressed her breasts against him, her lips reaching up to his._

_ He tore himself away._

_ "What's the matter, my love?" she frowned. "Don't I excite you? Don't you want to fuck me?"_

_ "This isn't real!" he growled harshly. "YOU aren't real!"_

_ She smiled, but there was menace in it. "Of course I'm real, don't be ridiculous! Come to bed, my love!"_

_ "Stop calling me that!" he snarled. "You're not HER. Get out!"_

_ "Not who?" she demanded._

_ He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. "Oh, no you don't," he said shrewdly. "If you're really her, what do I call you?"_

_ "What kind of question is that?" she demanded, irritated. For a heartbeat her face was a thundercloud of malice, which quickly cleared. "Oh, this is silly, my love!" She softened her features and the pleading tone was back. "Here we are arguing when we should be fucking like rabbits! Take me now!" She leaned back and opened her legs._

_ "No!" he rejected. He flipped a corner of the furs back over her. "You're not her, so get out!"_

_ "Fine, then," she snarled. "What gave it away?"_

_ "I'll keep that to myself for now." He gave her a feral grin. "Just in case you try something like this again. Now get out and stay out!"_

0

He woke in a cold sweat. Breathing heavily, Argis sat up and ran a hand through his hair. That was the most vivid one so far, but he gave a grunt of satisfaction. He'd beaten it this time! The Enemy had tried to use his own desires against him, but couldn't answer his simple question. Though the image he had sent to Argis looked like Alorra, he knew his Bright Eyes would never use language like that!

Argis settled himself back down to get what sleep he could the rest of the night. He had a feeling there would be no more visions sent his way. _One for our side,_ he thought contently, before sleep claimed him.


End file.
